e 


KID  SCANLAN 


KID   SCANLAN 


BY 

H.  C.  WITWER 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  LEATHER  PUSHERS, 
FIGHTING  BLOOD,  ETC. 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 

Made  in  the  United  State*  of  America 


Copyright,  1920, 

BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


MY     SIX-YEAR-OLD      DESCENDANT 

WHO     WEEPS     BITTERLY    WHEN 

I   READ   MY   YARNS   ALOUD 

TO   HIS    PATIENT 

MOTHER 

H.  C.  W. 


2138985  ' 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.     LAY  OFF  MACDUFF 7 

II.     EAST  LYNCH 51   - 

/e 
II.     PLEASURE  ISLAND       98  -  P-   \ 

"ta    |  i 
IV.    LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS 145 

V.  "ExiT,  LAUGHING" 200 

VI.  THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM 257 

VII.  LIFE  Is  REEL! 311 

VIII.  HOSPITAL  STUFF 351 


KID  SCANLAN 


KID  SCANLAN 

CHAPTER  I 
LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF! 

BRAINS  is  great  things  to  have,  and 
many's  the  time  I've  wished  I  had  a  set 
of  'em  in  my  head  instead  of  just  plain 
bone!  Still  they's  a  lot  of  guys  which  has 
gone  through  life  like  a  yegg  goes  through 
a  safe,  and  taken  everything  out  of  it  that 
wasn't  nailed,  with  nothin'  in  their  head 
but  hair! 

A  college  professor  gets  five  thousand  a 
year,  a  good  lightweight  will  grab  that 
much  a  fight.  A  school  teacher  drags 
down  fifteen  a  week,  and  the  guy  that  looks 
after  the  boilers  in  the  school  buildin'  gets 
thirty! 

Sweet  cookie! 

7 


8  KID  SCANLAN 

So  don't  get  discouraged  if  the  pride  of 
the  family  gets  throwed  out  of  school  be- 
cause he  thinks  twice  two  is  eighteen  and 
geography  is  played  with  nets.  The  chances 
is  very  bright  that  young  Stupid  will  be 
holdin'  the  steerin'  wheel  of  his  own  Easy 
Eight  when  the  other  guys,  which  won  all 
the  trick  medals  for  ground  and  lofty  learn- 
in',  will  be  wonderin'  why  a  good  book- 
keeper never  gets  more  than  twenty-five  a 
week.  And  then,  if  he  feels  he's  got  to  have 
brains  around  him,  now  that  he's  grabbed 
the  other  half  of  the  team — money — he  can 
go  downtown  and  buy  all  the  brains  he 
wants  for  eighteen  dollars  a  week! 

So  if  you're  as  shy  on  brains  as  a  bald- 
headed  man  is  of  dandruff,  and  what's 
more,  you  know  it,  cheer  up!  Because  you 
can  bet  the  gas-bill  money  that  you  got 
somethin'  just  as  good.  Some  trick  con- 
cealed about  you  that'll  keep  you  out  of  the 
bread  line.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  take  an 
inventory  of  yourself  and  find  it! 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  9 

Look  good — it's  there  somewheres ! 

Kid  Scanlan's  was  hangin'  from  his  left 
shoulder,  and  it  made  him  enough  dimes  in 
five  years  to  step  out  of  the  crowd  and 
watch  the  others  scramble  from  the  side- 
lines. It  was  just  an  ordinary  arm,  size  36, 
model  A,  lot  768,  same  as  we  all  have — but 
inside  of  it  the  Kid  had  a  wallop  that  would 
make  a  six-inch  shell  look  like  a  lover's  ca- 
ress! 

Inside  of  his  head  the  Kid  had  noth- 
in'I 

Scanlan  went  through  the  welterweight 
division  about  like  the  Marines  went 
through  Belleau  Wood,  and,  finally,  the  only 
thing  that  stood  between  him  and  the  title 
was  a  guy  called  One-Punch  Ross — the 
champion.  They  agreed  to  fight  until  na- 
ture stopped  the  quarrel,  at  Goldfield,  Nev. 
They's  two  things  I'll  never  forget  as  long 
as  I  pay  the  premiums  on  my  insurance  pol- 
icy, and  they  are  the  first  and  second  rounds 
of  that  fight  That's  as  far  as  the  thing 


io  KID  SCANLAN 

went,  just  two  short  frames,  but  more  real 
scrappin'  was  had  in  them  few  minutes  than 
Europe  will  see  if  Ireland  busts  loose  1 
Except  that  they  was  more  principals,  the 
battle  of  the  Marne  would  have  looked  like 
a  chorus  men's  frolic  alongside  of  the  Ross- 
Scanlan  melee.  They  went  at  each  other 
like  peeved  wildcats  and  the  bell  at  the  end 
of  the  first  round  only  seemed  to  annoy  'em 
— they  had  to  be  jimmied  apart.  Ross 
opened  the  second  round  by  knockin'  Scan- 
Ian  through  the  ropes  into  the  ten-dollar 
boxes,  but  the  Kid  was  back  and  in  there 
tryin'  again  before  the  referee  could  find  the 
body  to  start  a  count.  After  beatin'  the 
champ  from  pillar  to  post  and  hittin'  him 
with  everything  but  the  bucket,  the  Kid 
rocks  him  to  sleep  with  a  left  swing  to  the 
jaw,  just  before  the  gong. 

The  crowd  went  crazy.  I  went  in  the 
hole  for  five  thousand  bucks  and  the  Kid 
went  in  the  movies  1 

I  had  been  handlin'  Ross  before  that  bat- 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  n 

tie,  but  after  it  I  wouldn't  have  buried  him  I 
This  guy  was  a  ex-champion  then,  and  I 
don't  want  no  ex-nothin'  around  me — un- 
less it's  a  bill. 

Right  after  that  scrap,  Scanlan  sent  for 
me  and  made  me  a  proposition  to  look  after 
his  affairs  for  the  followin'  three  years,  and 
the  only  time  I  lost  in  acceptin'  it  was 
caused  by  the  ink  runnin'  out  of  my  foun- 
tain pen  when  I  was  signin'  the  contract. 
In  them  days  I  had  a  rep  for  bein'  able  to 
get  the  money  for  my  athletes  that  would 
make  Shylock  look  like  a  free  spender. 
Every  time  one  of  my  boys  performed  for 
the  edification  of  the  mob,  we  got  a  elegant 
deposit  before  we  put  a  pen  to  the  articles 
and  we  got  the  balance  of  the  dough  before 
we  pulled  on  a  glove.  I  never  left  nothin' 
to  chance  or  the  other  guy.  That's  what 
beat  Napoleon  and  all  them  birds!  Of 
course,  they  was  several  people  here  and 
there  throughout  the  country  which  was 
more  popular  than  I  was  on  that  account, 


12  KID  SCANLAN 

but  which  would  you  rather  have,  three 
cheers  or  three  bucks? 

Well,  that's  the  way  I  figured! 

About  a  month  after  Scanlan  become  my 
only  visible  means  of  support,  I  signed 
him  up  for  ten  rounds  with  a  bird  which 
said,  "What  d'ye  want,  hey?"  when  you 
called  him  Hurricane  Harris,  and  the  next 
day  a  guy  comes  in  to  see  me  in  the  little 
trick  office  I  had  staked  myself  to  on  Broad- 
way. When  he  rapped  on  the  door  I  got 
up  on  a  chair  and  took  a  flash  at  him  over 
the  transom  and  seein'  he  looked  like  ready 
money,  I  let  him  come  in.  He  claims  his 
name  is  Edward  R.  Potts  and  that  so  far  he's 
president  of  the  Maudlin  Moving  Picture 
Company. 

"I  am  here,"  he  says,  "to  offer  you  a 
chance  to  make  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
Do  you  want  it?" 

"Who  give  you  the  horse?"  I  asks  him, 
playin'  safe.  "I  got  to  know  where  this  tip 
come  from!" 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  13 

"Horse?"  he  mutters,  lookin'  surprised. 
"I  know  nothing  of  horses!" 

"Well,"  I  tells  him,  "I  ain't  exactly  a 
liveryman  myself,  but  before  I  put  any  of 
Kid  Scanlan's  hard-earned  money  on  one  of 
them  equines,  I  got  to  know  more  about 
the  race  than  you've  spilled  so  far!  What 
did  the  trainer  say?" 

He  was  a  fat,  middle-aged  hick  that 
would  soon  be  old,  and  he  wears  half  a  pair 
of  glasses  over  one  eye.  He  aims  the  thing 
at  me  and  smiles. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand  what 
you're  talking  about!"  he  says.  "But  I  fancy 
it's  a  pun  of  some  sort!  Very  well,  then, 
what  did  the  trainer  say?" 

I  walked  over  and  laid  my  arm  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Are  you  endeavorin'  to  spoof  me?" 
I  asks  him  sternly.  "Or  have  you  got  me 
confused  with  Abe  Levy,  the  vaudeville 
agent?  Either  way  you're  losin'  time!  I 
don't  care  for  your  stuff  myself,  and  if  that's 


14  KID  SCANLAN 

your  act,  I  wouldn't  give  you  a  week-end 
at  a  movie  house!" 

He  takes  off  the  trick  eye-glass  and  be- 
gins to  clean  it  with  a  handkerchief. 

"My  dear  fellow!"  he  says.  "It  is  plain 
that  you  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  my 
proposal.  I  wish  to  engage  the  services  of 
Kid  Scanlan,  the  present  incumbent  of  the 
welterweight  title.  We  want  to  make  a 
five-reel  feature,  based  on  his  rise  to  the 
championship.  I  am  prepared  to  offer  you 
first  class  transportation  to  our  mammoth 
studios  at  Film  City,  Cal. ;  and  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  when  the  picture  is  completed! 
What  do  you  say?" 

"Have  a  cigar!"  I  says,  when  I  get  my 
breath.  I  throwed  a  handful  of  'em  in  his 
lap  and  give  the  water  cooler  a  play. 

"No,  thanks!"  he  says,  layin'  'em  on  the 
desk.  "I  never  smoke." 

"Well,"  I  tells  him,  "I  ain't  got  a  thing 
to  drink  in  the  place,  you  gotta  be  careful 
here,  y'know!  But  to  get  back  to  the  movie 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  i? 

thing,  what  does  the  Kid  have  to  do  for  the 
twenty  thousand  fish?" 

He  takes  a  long  piece  of  paper  from  his 
pocket  and  lays  it  down  in  front  of  me.  It 
looked  like  a  chattel  mortgage  on  Mexico., 
and  what  paragraphs  didn't  commence  with 
"to  wit,"  started  off  with  ado  hereby." 

"All  that  Mr.  Scanlan  has  to  do,"  he  ex- 
plains, "will  be  told  him  by  our  director  at 
the  studios,  who  will  produce  the  picture. 
His  name  is  Mr.  Salvatore  Genaro. 
Kindly  sign  where  the  cross  is  marked!" 

"Wait!"  I  says.  "We  can't  take  a  rail- 
road ride  like  that  for  twenty  thousand, 
we  got  to  have  twenty-five  and— 

"All  right!"  he  butts  in.  "Sign  only  on 
the  first  line!" 

"Thirty  thousand,  I  meant  to  say!"  I 
tells  him,  "because — " 

"Certainly,"  he  cuts  me  off,  handin'  over 
his  fountain  pen.  "Don't  use  initials,  sign 
your  full  name!" 

I  signed  it. 


i6  KID  SCANLAN 

"How  do  I  know  we  get  this  money?" 
I  asks  him. 

"Aha!"  he  answers.  "How  do  we  know 
that  the  dawn  will  come?  My  company 
is  worth  a  million  dollars,  old  chap,  and 
that  contract  you  have  is  as  good  as  the 
money!  Be  at  my  office  at  two  this  after- 
noon and  I  will  give  you  the  tickets.  Adios 
until  then!" 

And  he  blows  out  of  the  office. 

I  closed  down  the  desk,  went  outside  and 
climbed  into  my  Foolish  Four.  In  an 
hour  I  was  up  to  the  trainin'  camp  near 
Rye  where  Kid  Scanlan  was  preparin'  for 
his  collision  with  Hurricane  Harris. 
Scanlan  is  trainin'  for  the  quarrel  by  playin' 
seven  up  with  the  room  clerk  from  the 
Beach  Hotel,  and  when  I  bust  in  the  door  he 
takes  a  look,  throws  the  cards  on  the  floor 
and  makes  a  pass  at  his  little  pal  so's 
I'll  think  he's  a  new  sparrin'  partner.  I 
pulled  him  off  and  dragged  him  to  one  side. 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  17 

"How  would  you  like  to  go  in  the 
movies?"  I  says. 

"Nothin'  doin'!"  the  Kid  tells  me. 
"They  make  my  eyes  sore  I" 

"I  don't  mean  watch  'em!"  I  explains. 
"I  mean  act  in  'em!  We're  goin'  out  to  the 
well  known  Coast  this  afternoon  and  you're 
gonna  be  a  movie  hero  for  five  reels  and 
thirty  thousand  bucks!" 

"We  don't  fight  Harris?"  asks  the  'Kid. 

"No!"  I  says.  "What  d'ye  mean  fight! 
Leave  that  stuff  for  the  roughnecks,  we're 
actors  now!" 

We  got  out  to  Film  City  at  the  end  of 
the  week  and  while  there  wasn't  no  brass 
band  to  meet  us  at  the  station,  there  was  a 
sad-lookin'  guy  with  one  of  them  buckboard 
things  and  what  at  one  time  was  probably 
a  horse.  I  never  seen  such  a  gloomy 
lookin'  layout  in  my  life;  they  reminded  me 
of  a  rainy  Sunday  in  Philadelphia.  The 

I 


1 8  KID  SCANLAN 

driver  comes  up  to  us  and,  after  takin'  a 
long  and  searchin'  look,  says, 

"Which  one  of  you  fellers  is  the  pugeyl- 
ist?" 

"Pugilist?"   I   says.     "What  d'ye  mean 
pugilist?    We're  the  new  leadin'  men  for  . 
the   stock   company   here.     Pugilist!    Ha! 
Ha!     How  John  Drew  will  laugh  when  I 
tell  him  that!" 

He  takes  a  piece  of  paper  from  his 
pocket  and  reads  it. 

"I'm  lookin'  for  Kid  Scanlan  and  Johnny 
Green,"  he  announces.  "One  of  'em's  sup- 
posed to  be  the  welterweight  champion,  but 
I  doubt  it!  I  never  seen  him  fight!" 

"Well,"  I  says,  "you  got  a  good  chance  to 
try  for  the  title,  bo,  if  you  ain't  more  re- 
spectful! I'm  Mr.  Green  and  that's  Kid 
Scanlan,  the  champ!" 

He  looks  at  the  Kid  and  kinda  sneers. 

"All  right!"  he  says.  "Git  aboard  and 
I'll  take  you  out  to  Mr.  Genaro.  I'll  tell 
you  now,  though,  that  if  you  ain't  what  you 


19 

claim,  you  got  to  walk  back!"  He  takes  a 
side  glance  at  the  Kid.  "Champ,  eh?"  he 
mutters. 

iWe  climb  in  the  buckboard  and  this  guy 
turns  to  me  and  points  the  whip  at  the 
Kid. 

"He  don't  look  like  no  pugeylist  to  me," 
he  goes  on,  like  he's  lookin'  for  a  argument, 
"let  alone  a  champion!  Still  looks  is  de- 
ceivin'  at  that.  Take  a  crab,  for  instance 
• — you'd  never  think  from  lookin'  at  it  that 
you  could  eat  it,  would  you?  No!  Git 
up!" 

Git  up  was  right,  because  the  animal  this 
guy  had  suspended  between  the  shafts  had 
laid  right  down  on  the  ground  outside  the 
station,  whilst  he  was  talkin'  to  us.  The 
noble  beast  got  gamely  to  its  feet  at  the  word 
from  Gloomy  Gus,  give  a  little  shiver  that 
rattled  the  harness  and  then  turned  around 
to  see  what  its  master  had  drawed  from  the 
train  that  mornin'.  It  took  a  good  eyeful 
and  kinda  curled  up  its  lip  and  sneered  at 


20  KID  SCANLAN 

us,  showin'  its  yellow  teeth  in  a  sarcastical 
grin. 

"Hold  fast!"  remarks  Gloomy  Gus. 
"It's  rough  country  here  and  this  horse  is 
about  to  do  a  piece  of  runnin'I"  He  takes 
off  his  belt  and  whales  that  equine  over 
what  would  a  been  the  back  on  a  regular 
horse.  "Step  along!"  he  asks  it. 

Well,  if  they  had  that  ride  at  Coney 
Island,  they'd  have  made  a  fortune  with  it  in 
one  summer,  because  as  soon  as  Old  Dobbin 
realized  he'd  been  hit,  he  started  for  South 
Africa  and  tried  to  make  it  in  six  jumps  I 
He  folded  his  long  skinny  ears  back  of  his 
neck  somewheres  and  just  simply  give  him- 
self over  to  runnin'.  We  went  up  hills  and 
down  vales  that  would  have  broke  an  auto- 
mobile's heart,  we  took  corners  on  one  leg 
and  creeks  in  a  jump  and  when  I  seen  the 
Pacific  Ocean  loomin'  up  in  the  offin',  I  be- 
gin to  pray  that  the  thing  couldn't  swim! 
Gloomy  Gus  leans  over  and  yells  in  my  ear, 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  21 

"Some  horse,  eh?" 

"Is  that  what  it  is?"  I  hollers  back. 
"Well,  he's  tryin'  all  right.  He's  what  you 
could  call  a  runnin'  fool!"  We  shot  past 
somethin'  that  was  just  a  black  blur  for  a 
minute  and  then  disappeared  back  in  the 
dust.  "What  was  that?"  I  yells. 

"Montana!"  screams  Gloomy  Gus,  "and 

?> 

"Hal  Ha!"  roars  the  Kid,  openin'  his 
mouth  for  the  first  time.  "That's  goin'  a 
few!  Let  me  know  when  we  pass  Oregon, 
I  got  a  friend  there!" 

"Montana  Bill!"  explains  Gloomy  Gus, 
frownin'  at  the  Kid.  "That's  the  only  place 
you  can  get  licker  within  five  miles  of  Film 
City!"  He  looks  at  the  Kid  again  and  mut- 
ters half  to  himself,  "Champion,  eh!" 

Then  he  yanks  in  the  reins  and  we  slow 
down  to  about  a  runaway's  pace  right  near 
what  looks  to  be  a  World's  Fair  with  a  big 
wall  around  it  and  an  iron  gate  in  the  mid- 


22  KID  SCANLAN 

die.  We  shot  up  to  the  entrance  and  the 
horse  calls  it  a  day  and  stops,  puffin'  and 
blowin'  like  a  fat  piano-mover. 

"Film  City!"  hollers  Gloomy  Gus.  "Git 
out  here  and  walk  in.  Mr.  Genaro's  office 
is  right  back  of  the  African  Desert!" 

I  thanked  him  for  bringin'  us  in  alive. 
He  didn't  say  nothin'  to  me,  but  as  he  was 
passin'  in  the  gates  I  seen  him  lookin'  after 
the  'Kid  and  shakin'  his  head.  "Champion, 
hey!"  he  mumbles. 

This  Film  City  place  would  have  made 
delerium  tremens  lay  down  and  quit.  There 
was  Indians,  cowboys,  cannibals,  chorus 
girls,  Japs,  sheriffs,  train  robbers,  and — 
well,  it  looked  like  the  place  where  they  as- 
semble dime  novels.  A  guy  goes  racin* 
past  us  on  a  horse  with  a  lot  of  maniacs, 
yellin'  and  shootin',  tearin'  after  him  and  on 
the  other  side  a  gang  of  laborers  in  tin  hats 
and  short  skirts  is  havin'  a  battle  royal  with 
swords.  Three  feet  from  where  we're 
standin'  a  house  is  burnin'  down  and  two 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  23 

guys  is  sluggin'  each  other  on  the  roof. 
We  walk  along  a  little  further  and  run  into 
a  private  conversation.  Some  guy  in  a  new 
dress  suit  is  makin'  love  to  a  dame,  while 
another  fellow  stands  in  front  of  them  and 
says  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "Remember 
now,  you're  madly  in  love  with  her,  but  fa- 
ther detests  the  sight  of  your  face.  Ready 
— hey,  camera — all  right — wait  a  minute, 
wait  a  minute,  don't  wrestle  with  her,  em- 
brace her,  will  you,  embrace  her!" 

Kid  Scanlan  takes  this  all  in  with  his  eyes 
poppin'  out  of  his  head  and  his  mouth  as 
open  as  a  stuss  game. 

"Some  joint,  eh?"  he  says  to  me.  "This 
is  what  I  call  a  regular  cabaret!  See  if  we 
can  get  a  table  near  the  front!" 

A  lot  of  swell-lookin'  dames  comes  in — 
well,  of  course  it  was  some  warm  out  there, 
but  even  at  that  they  was  takin'  an  awful 
chance  on  gettin'  pneumonia,  and  files  out 
of  a  house  on  the  left  and  starts  to  dance  and 
I  had  to  drag  the  Kid  away  bodily.  .We 


24  KID  SCANLAN 

duck  through  a  side  street,  and  every  time 
we  turn  around  some  guy  with  a  camera 
yells  for  us  to  get  out  of  the  way,  but  finally 
we  wind  up  at  Mr.  Genaro's  office.  He 
ain't  in,  but  a  guy  that  was  tells  us  Genaro's 
makin'  a  picture  of  Richard  the  Third,  over 
behind  the  Street  Scene  in  Tokio.  We 
breezed  over  there  and  we  found  him. 

Genaro  is  in  the  middle  of  what  looks 
like  the  chorus  of  a  burlesque  show,  only 
the  men  is  wearin'  tights  instead  of  the 
women.  I  picked  him  out  right  away  be- 
cause he  was  the  first  guy  I  had  seen  in  the 
place  in  citizen's  clothes,  outside  of  the  guys 
with  the  kodaks.  He  was  little  and  fat, 
lookin'  more  like  a  human  plum  puddin' 
than  anything  else.  When  we  had  worked 
our  way  through  the  mob,  we  saw  that  he 
was  shakin'  his  fist  at  'em  and  bawlin'  'em 
out. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Genaro?"  I  asks  him. 

"Joosta  wait,  joosta  wait!"  he  hollers 
over  his  shoulder  without  even  lookin* 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  25 

around.  "I'm  a  ver'  busy  joosta  now! 
Writa  me  the  letta!" 

"Where  d'ye  get  that  stuff?"  I  yells  back, 
gettin'  sore.  "D'ye  know  who  we  are?" 

I  seen  the  rest  of  them  gigglin',  and  Gen- 
aro  dances  around  and  throws  up  his  hands. 

"Aha!"  he  screams,  pullin'  at  his  hair. 
"You  maka  me  crazy!  What's  a  mat — 
what  you  want?  Queek,  don't  make  me 
wait!" 

The  Kid  growls  at  him  and  whispers  in 
my  ear, 

"Will  I  bounce  him?" 

"Not  yet!"  I  tells  him.  "I'm  Mr. 
Green,"  I  says  to  Genaro,  "and  this  is  Kid 
Scanlan,  welterweight  champion  of  the 
world,  and  if  you  pull  any  more  of  that 
joosta  wait  stuff,  you'll  be  able  to  say  you 
fought  him!" 

He  drops  his  hands  and  smiles. 

"Excuse,  please!"  he  says.  "I  maka  mis- 
take!" he  grabs  hold  of  his  head  again  and 
groans,  "Gotta  bunch  bonehead  here  this 


26  KID  SCANLAN 

morning,"  he  goes  on,  noddin'  to  'em. 
"Driva  me  crazy!  Shakespeare  he  see 
these  feller  play  Reechard,  he  joomp  out  of 
he'sa  grave!"  He  swings  around  at  them 
all  of  a  sudden  and  makes  a  face  at  'em, 
"Broadaway  star,  eh?"  he  snarls.  "Bah! 
You  maka  me  seek!  Go  away  for  one,  two 
hour.  I  senda  for  you — you  all  what  you 
calla  the  bunk!" 

On  the  level  I  thought  he  was  gonna  bite 
'em! 

The  merry  villagers  scatter,  and  Genaro 
turns  around  to  us  and  wipes  his  face  with 
a  red  silk  handkerchief. 

"You  knowa  the  piece?"  he  asks  us. 
"Reechard  the  Third,  Shakespeare?" 

"Not  quite!"  I  says.  "What  is  he— a 
local  scrapper?" 

The  Kid  butts  in  and  shoves  me  away. 

"Don't  mind  this  guy,"  he  says  to  Genaro. 
"He's  nothin'  but  a  igrant  roughneck!  / 
got  you  right  away.  I  remember  in  this 
Richard  the  Third  thing — they's  a  big  battle 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  27 

in  the  last  act  and  Dick  tells  a  gunman  by 
the  name  of  MacDuff  to  lay  off  him  or  he'll 
knock  him  for  a  goal!" 

"Not  lay  off!"  says  Genaro,  smilin', 
"Lay  on!  Lay  on,  MacDuff !" 

"Yeh?"  inquires  the  Kid.  "I  thought  it 
was  lay  off.  I  only  seen  the  frolic  once. 
I  took  off  a  member  of  Dick's  gang  at  the 
Grand  Oprey  house,  when  I  was  broke  in 
Trenton." 

"Nex'  week  we  start  your  picture,"  says 
Genaro  to  the  Kid.  "Mr.  Van  Aylstyne 
he'sa  write  scenario  now.  This  gonna  be 
great  for  you — magnificent!  He'sa  give 
you  everything!  Firsta  reel  you  fall  off  a 
cliff!" 

"Who,  me?"  hollers  the  Kid. 

^Si!"  smiles  Genaro.  "Bada  man  wanna 
f eex  you,  so  you  no  fighta  the  champ !  You 
getta  the  beeg  idea?" 

"What's  next?"  asks  the  Kid,  frownin'. 

"Ah!"  pipes  Genaro,  rollin'  his  eyes  at 
the  sky.  "We  giva  you  the  whole  picture! 


28  KID  SCANI^N 

Second  reel  you  get  run  over  by  train — • 
fasta  mail!  You  see?  So  you  no  fighta 
the  champ!" 

The  Kid  looks  at  me  and  grabs  my  arm. 

"This  guy's  a  maniac!"  he  hollers.  "Did 
you  get  that  railroad  thing?  He — " 

Genaro  goes  right  on  like  he  don't  hear 
him. 

"Thirda  reel!"  he  says.  "Thirda  reel 
you  get  hit  by  two  automobiles,  this  bada 
feller  try  to  feex  you  so  you  no  fighta  the 
champ!" 

"Wait!"  I  butts  in.     "You  must—" 

"But  fiftha  reel — aaah!"  Genaro  don't 
pay  no  attention  to  me,  but  kisses  his  hand  at 
a  tree.  "Fiftha  reel,"  he  says,  "she'sa  great! 
Get  everybody  excite !  You  get  throw  from 
sheep  in  ocean,  fella  shoot  at  you  when 
you  try  sweem,  bada  fella  come  along  in  mo- 
torboat,  he'sa  run  you  down!  Then  you 
swim  five,  six,  seven  mile  to  land  and  there 
dozen  feller  beat  you  with  club — so  you  no 
fighta  the  champ!" 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  29 

The  Kid  has  sunk  down  on  a  chair  and 
he's  fannin'  himself.  His  face  was  the 
color  of  skim  milk. 

"What  you  think?"  asks  Genaro.  "She's 
a  maka  fine  picture,  what?" 

"Great!"  I  says.  "If  that  guy  that  wants 
to  fix  the  Kid  so  he  no  fighta  the  champ 
loses  out,  they  can't  say  he  wasn't  tryin'  any- 
how !  Why  don't  you  throw  in  another  reel, 
showin'  the  lions  devourin'  the  Kid — so  he 
no  fighta  the  champ?" 

"That's  a  good!"  Genaro  shakes  his  head. 
"I  spika  to  Van  Aylstyne!" 

He  took  us  up  to  his  office  and  when  we 
get  inside  the  door  they's  a  dame  sittin' 
there  which  would  make  Venus  look  like  a 
small-town  soubrette.  She  looked  like  these 
other  movie  queens  would  like  to!  Whilst 
we're  givin'  her  the  up  and  down,  she  smiles 
at  the  Kid  and  he  immediately  drops  his  hat 
on  the  floor  and  knocks  over  a  inkwell. 

"Miss  Vincent,"  says  Genaro,  "this  Mr. 
Kid  Scanlan.  He'sa  work  with  you  nex' 


30  KID  SCANLAN 

week.     This     Mr.     Green,    hisa    fr'en'." 

We  shake  hands  all  around  and  the  Kid 
elbows  me  to  one  side. 

"Where  are  you  goin'  this  afternoon?" 
he  asks  the  dame.  "Anywheres?" 

Genaro  raps  on  the  desk. 

"Joosta  one  minoote!"  he  calls  out. 
"Mr.  Kid  Scanlan,  I  would  like—" 

"Joosta  wait!"  pipes  the  Kid.  "Writa 
me  the  letta!  I'm  ver'  busy  joosta  now!" 
He  puts  one  hand  on  the  mantelpiece  and 
drapes  himself  in  front  of  the  dame.  "And 
you  haven't  been  here  long,  eh?"  he  says. 

Genaro  frowns  for  a  minute  and  then  he 
grins  and  winks  at  me. 

"Miss  Vincent!"  he  butts  in.  "You 
show  Mr.  Kid  Scanlan  all  around  this  aft- 
ernoon, what?  Explain  him  everything 
about  nex'  week  we  maka  his  picture. 
What  you  think,  no?" 

"Yes  I"  pipes  the  Kid  grabbin'  his  hat 
"I  never  been  nowheres.  Let's  go!" 

The  dame  smiles  some  more,  and,  well, 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  31 

Scanlan  must  have  been  born  with  a  horse- 
shoe in  each  hand  because  she  takes  his  arm 
and  they  blow. 

Just  as  they  were  goin'  out  the  door,  in 
comes  Gloomy  Gus  which  brought  us  up 
from  the  station.  He  looks  at  the  Kid  and 
this  dame  goin'  out  and  he  sneers  after  'em. 

"Champion!"  he  mutters,  curlin'  his  lip. 
"Huh!" 

The  next  mornin'  we  meet  this  guy  Van 
Aylstyne  who  doped  out  the  stuff  so  the  Kid 
"no  fighta  the  champ!"  He's  a  tall,  slim, 
gentle-lookin'  bird,  all  dressed  in  white 
like  a  Queen  of  the  May  or  somethin'  and 
after  hearin'  him  talk  I  figured  my  first 
guess  was  about  right.  We  also  got  to 
know  Edmund  De  Vronde,  one  of  the 
leadin'  men  and  the  shop  girls'  delight,  and 
him  and  Van  Aylstyne  were  both  members 
of  the  same  lodge.  Whilst  we're  standin' 
there  talkin'  to  Genaro,  who  I  found  out 
was  the  headkeeper  or  something  along 
comes  Miss  Vincent  in  one  of  them  trick 


32  KID  SCANLAN 

autos  that  has  a  seat  for  two  thin  people  and 
a  gasoline  tank.  Only,  you  don't  sit  in  'em, 
you  just  stoop,  with  your  knees  jammed  up 
against  your  chin.  She  drives  this  thing 
right  up  and  stops  where  we're  standin'. 
If  she  ever  looked  any  better,  she'd  have  fell 
for  herself! 

"I'm  going  to  Long  Beach,"  she  sings 
out,  "and  I'm  going  to  hit  nothing  but  the 
tops  of  the  trees!  Come  along?" 

De  Vronde,  Van  Aylstyne  and  the  Kid 
left  their  marks  at  the  same  time,  but  you 
know,  my  boy  was  welterweight  champ  and 
when  that  auto  buzzed  away  from  there  he 
went  with  it. 

"Ugh!"  remarks  De  Vronde.  "I  loathe 
those  creatures!"  He  dusts  off  his  sleeve 
where  the  Kid  had  grabbed  it  to  toss  him 
to  one  side.  "The  fellow  struck  me!"  he 
says  indignantly. 

Van  Aylstyne  picks  up  his  hat  which  had 
fell  off  in  the  struggle. 

"Thank  Heavens,"  he  tells  the  other  guy, 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  33 

"we  will  soon  be  rid  of  him!  I'll  have  the 
script  ready  for  Genaro  to-morrow!  I 
never  saw  such  a  vicious  assault!" 

They  walked  away,  and  I  turns  to  Genaro 
who  had  stepped  aside  for  a  minute. 

"Say!"  I  asks  him.  "Is  this  De  Vronde 
guy  worth  anything  to  you?" 

"Sapristi!"  he  tells  me,  makin'  a  face. 
"I  could  keel  him!  He'sa  wan  greata  big 
what  you  call  bunk!  He'sa  no  good!  He 
can't  act,  he  can  do  nothing.  Joosta  got 
nice  face — that's  all !" 

"Well,"  I  says,  "he  won't  have  no  nice 
face,  if  he  don't  lay  off  the  Kid!  If  Scan- 
Ian  hears  him  make  any  cracks  about  him 
like  he  just  did  now — well,  he'll  practically 
ruin  him,  that's  all!" 

After  a  while  the  Kid  and  Miss  Vincent 
comes  back  and  she  hurries  away  to  change 
her  clothes  because  she's  got  to  work  in  this 
Richard  the  Third  thing.  The  Kid  is  all 
covered  with  dirt  and  mud  and  his  face  is 
all  cut  up  from  the  flyin'  pebbles  and  sand. 


34  KID  SCANLAN 

"Say!"  he  says  to  me.  "That's  some 
dame,  believe  mel  We  passed  everything 
on  the  road  from  here  to  Long  Beach  and 
on  the  way  back  we  beat  the  Sante  Fe  in  by 
a  city  block!  Come  on  over  and  see  her 
work;  she's  gonna  act  in  that  Richard  the 
Third  thing!" 

We  breezed  over  past  the  African  Desert 
and  there's  the  troupe  all  gathered  around  a 
guy  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  who's  readin'  'em 
somethin'  out  of  a  book.  One  of  the  cam- 
era guys  tells  me  it's  Mr.  Duke,  Genaro's  as- 
sistant. 

"A  fine  piece  of  Camembert  he  is,  too!" 
says  this  guy.  "He  put  me  over  on  this  side 
to  get  the  battle  scene  from  an  angle  and 
tells  me  to  shoot  the  minute  the  melee  starts 
in  case  I  don't  get  his  signal.  One  of  them 
dames  fainted  from  the  heat  a  minute  ago 
and  the  rest  of  'em  go  rushin'  around  yellin' 
like  a  lot  of  nuts.  Naturally  I  thought  the 
thing  went  in  the  picture  and  I  took  forty 
feet  of  it  before  he  called  me  off!  He's 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  35 

gonna  report  me  now  and  I'm  liable  to  get 
the  gate  when  Genaro  shows  up!  I'll  get 
the  big  stew,  though, — watch  me!" 

At  this  stage  of  the  game,  this  Mr.  Duke 
waves  for  us  to  come  over. 

"Where's  Mr.  Genaro?"  he  wants  to 
know. 

"Search  me!"  I  tells  him.  "I  just  left 
him  an  hour  or  so  ago  and— 

He  hurls  down  the  book  and  dances 
around  like  he's  gonna  throw  a  fit  or  some- 
thin'. 

"I  been  all  over  the  place,"  he  yells,  "and 
I  can't  find  him!  I  want  to  get  this  exte- 
rior while  the  sun  is  right  and  there's  no 
Richard  or  no  Genaro!" 

The  Kid,  who  has  been  talkin'  to  Miss 
Vincent,  comes  over  then  and  says, 

"What's  all  the  excitement?" 

"Who  are  you?"  asks  Duke. 

"We're  from  New  York,"  I  butts  in, 
"and—" 

"Well,    sufferin'    cats!"    hollers    Duke. 


36  KID  SCANLAN 

"Why  didn't  you  say  so  before?  One  of 
you  is  the  man  I'm  holdin'  this  picture 
for!" 

"Why,  Genaro  says,"  I  begins,  "that  next 
week  is — " 

"Never  mind  Genaro!"  shrieks  Duke. 
"He  ain't  here  now  and  I'm  directing  this 
picture!  See  that  sun  commencing  to  get 
dim?  Which  one  of  you  was  sent  on  by 
Mr.  Potts?" 

"This  guy  here!"  I  tells  him,  pointin'  to 
the  Kid.  "I'm  his  manager." 

"Carries  a  manager,  does  he?"  snorts 
Duke.  "Well,  run  him  in  the  dressin' 
room  there  and  get  a  costume  on  him. 
Hurry  up,  will  you — look  at  that  sun!" 

We  beat  it  on  the  run  for  the  place  he 
pointed  out,  and  as  we  started  away  I  seen 
him  throw  out  his  chest  and  say  to  one  of 
the  dames, 

"That's  the  way  those  stars  should  be  han- 
dled all  the  time!  Fussing  over  them  is  a 
mistake;  you  must  show  them  at  once  that 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  37 

no  such  thing  as  temperament  will  be  toler- 
ated! Broadway  star,  eh?  Well,  you  saw 
how  I  handled  him!" 

I  didn't  quite  make  that  stuff,  but  I  felt 
that  somethin'  was  wrong  somewheres. 
Genaro  had  told  me  the  Kid's  picture  wasn't 
to  be  made  for  a  week,  but  we  were  gettin' 
thirty  thousand  for  this  stunt  so  I  says  to 
the  Kid, 

"Get  in  there  and  shed  them  clothes  of 
yours  and  I'll  beat  it  over  to  the  hotel  and 
get  your  ring  togs!  They're  gettin'  ready 
to  fix  you  so  you  no  fighta  the  champ !" 

I  beat  it  back  to  the  trick  hotel  and  got 
the  suitcase  with  the  Kid's  gloves,  shoes  and 
trunks  in  it  and  it  didn't  take  me  five  min- 
utes to  get  back,  but  that  Duke  guy  is  on  my 
neck  the  minute  he  sees  me. 

"Will  you  hurry  up?"  he  hollers,  pullin' 
a  watch  on  me.  "Look  at  that  sun!" 

"He'll  be  out  in  a  minute  now!"  I  says. 
"I  got  a  guy  in  there  helpin'  him  dress." 

"He  knows  this  stuff  all  right,  doesn't 


38  KID  SCANLAN 

he?"  he  asks  me.  "I  understand  he's  been 
doing  nothing  but  the  one  line  for  years." 

"Knows  it?"  I  laughs.  "He's  the  world's 
champion;  that's  good  enough,  ain't  it?" 

"That's  what  they  all  say!"  he  sneers. 
"All  I  hope  is  that  he  ain't  no  cheap  ham! 
Look  at  that  sun  gettin'  away  from  me!" 

While  I'm  tryin'  to  dope  out  what  all 
these  birds  in  tights  and  with  feathers  in 
their  hats  has  got  to  do  with  "How  Kid 
Scanlan  Won  the  Title,"  Duke  grabs  my 
arm. 

"Drag  that  fellow  out  of  the  dressin* 
room,"  he  says,  "and  tell  him  he  enters  from 
the  second  entrance  where  those  trees  are. 
He  goes  right  through  the  Tower  scene — 
he  knows  it  by  heart,  I  guess.  I'll  be  right 
up  on  that  platform  there  directing  and 
that's  where  he  wants  to  face — not  the  cam- 
era!" 

Well,  I  went  into  the  dressin'  room  and 
the  Kid  is  ready.  He's  got  on  a  pair  of 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  39 

eight  ounce  gloves,  red  silk  trunks  and  ring 
shoes. 

"What  do  I  pull  now?"  he  asks  me. 

"Just  walk  right  out  from  between  them 
trees,"  I  says,  "and  they'll  tip  you  off  to  the 
rest." 

We  sneaked  around  the  scene  from  the 
back  and  stood  behind  the  tree  which  Duke 
had  pointed  out.  A  stage  hand  or  some- 
thin'  who  seemed  to  be  sufferin'  from  hys- 
terics told  us  not  to  let  Duke  see  us  till  we 
entered  the  scene,  because  it  was  considered 
bad  luck  to  walk  before  the  camera  first. 

"Clear!"  we  hear  Duke  yellin',  and  then 
he  blows  a  whistle.  "Hey,  move  faster 
there,  you  extra  people,  a  little  ginger! 
Billy,  face  center,  can't  you!  Now,  Miss 
Vincent,  register  fear — that's  it,  great!  All 
right,  Richard!" 

"That's  you!"  pipes  the  stage  hand,  and 
on  walks  the  Kid.  He  stands  in  the  middle 
of  the  scene  like  he  done  many  a  time  in  the 


40  KID  SCANLAN 

newspaper  offices  back  home  and  strikes  a 
fightin'  pose. 

A  couple  of  women  shrieks  and  runs  back 
of  the  trees  hidin'  their  faces  and  Miss  Vin- 
cent falls  in  a  chair  and  laughs  herself  sick. 
To  say  the  Kid  created  a  sensation  would  be 
puttin'  it  mild — he  was  a  riot!  The  rest 
of  the  bunch  howls  out  loud,  holdin'  their 
sides  and  staggerin'  up  against  each  other, 
and  the  stage  hands  rolled  around  the  floor. 
But  the  guy  that  was  runnin'  the  thing,  this 
Duke  person,  almost  faints,  and  then  he  gets 
red  in  the  face  and  jumps  down  off  the  plat- 
form. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  screams  at  the 
Kid.  "What  do  you  mean  by  coming  out 
before  these  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  that 
garb?  How  dare  you?  Is  that  your  in- 
terpretation of  Richard  the  Third?  Have 
you  been  drinking  or  what?" 

'What's  the  matter,  pal?"  asks  the  Kid, 
lookin'  surprised.  "I  got  to  wear  some- 
thin',  don't  I?" 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  41 

Off  goes  the  bunch  howlin'  again. 

"If  this  is  a  joke,  sir,"  yells  Duke,  "it  will 
be  a  mighty  costly  one  for  you!" 

This  De  Vronde  has  been  standin'  on  the 
side  lookin'  on  and  the  Kid,  seein'  Miss  Vin- 
cent, waves  a  glove  at  her.  She  waves  back 
holdin'  her  side  and  smiles. 

"Haw!  Haw!  Haw!"  roars  this  De 
Vronde  guy.  "How  droll!" 

The  Kid  is  over  to  him  in  two  steps. 
He's  seen  that  everybody  is  givin'  him 
the  laugh  and  he  realizes  he's  in  wrong 
somehow,  but  the  thing  has  him  puz- 
zled. 

"Where  d'ye  get  that  'haw,  haw'  stuff?" 
he  snarls,  stickin'  his  chin  out -in  front  of 
De  Vronde. 

"Why,  you  ignorant  ass!"  sneers  De 
Vronde,  out  loud,  so's  Miss  Vincent  can 
hear  him.  "If  you  had  any  brains  you'd 
know!" 

"I  don't  need  no  brains!"  snaps  the  Kid, 
scttin'  himself.  "I  got  this!" 


42  KID  SCANLAN 

And  he  drops  De  Vronde  with  a  right 
hook  to  the  jaw! 

"Boys!"  screams  Duke,  pointin'  to  the 
Kid.  "Throw  that  ruffian  out!" 

A  couple  of  big  huskies  makes  a  dash  for 
the  Kid,  and  I  figured  I  might  as  well  get 
in  the  thing  now  as  later,  so  I  tripped  one 
as  he  was  goin'  past  and  the  Kid  bounces 
the  other  with  a  short  left.  De  Vronde 
jumps  up  and  hits  the  Kid  over  the  head 
with  a  cane,  while  Miss  Vincent  screams 
and  hollers  "Coward!"  Then  a  bunch  of 
supers  comes  runnin'  in  from  the  back  just 
as  the  Kid  puts  De  Vronde  down  for  keeps, 
and  in  a  minute  everybody  was  in  there 
tryin'. 

Everybody  but  one  guy,  and  he  was 
turnin'  the  crank  of  his  camera  like  he  was 
gettin'  paid  by  the  number  of  revolutions 
the  thing  made. 

While  it  lasted,  it  was  some  fracas,  as  we 
say  at  the  studio.  It  certainly  was  a  scream 
to  see  them  guys,  all  dressed  up  to  play  the 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  43 

life  out  of  Richard  the  Third,  fallin'  all 
over  each  other  to  get  out  of  the  way  of 
the  Kid's  arms  and  bein'  held  back  by  the 
jam  behind  'em.  After  the  Kid  has  beat 
most  of  them  up  and  I  have  took  care  of  a 
few  myself,  a  whistle  blows  and  they  all 
fall  back — and  in  rushes  Genaro. 

"Sapristi!"  he  hollers.  "What  you  mean 
eh?  What  you  people  do  with  my  Reech- 
ard?" 

Duke  tries  to  see  him  out  of  his  one  good 
eye. 

"This  scoundrel,"  he  pipes,  pointin'  to 
the  Kid,  "came  out  here  to  play  Richard 
the  Third  costumed  like  that!" 

Genaro  looks  from  me  to  the  Kid  and 
grabs  his  head. 

"What?"  he  yells.  "That  feller  want  to 
play  Reechard?  Ho,  ho!  You  maka  me 
laugh!  You're  crazy  lika  the  heat! 
That's  what  you  call  fighting  champion  of 
the  world!  He'sa  Mr.  Kid  Scanlan.  We 
maka  hisa  picture  nex'  week!" 


44  KID  SCANEAN 

Duke  gives  a  yell  and  falls  in  a  chair. 

I  pulls  on  my  coat  and  wipes  my  face 
with  a  handkerchief. 

"Yes,"  I  says,  "and  they  just  tried  to  fix 
him  so  he  no  fighta  the  champ !" 

"Zowie!"  pipes  Duke,  sprawled  out  in 
the  chair,  "I  thought  he  was  Roberts,  the 
man  we  wired  to  come  on  from  Boston! 
What  in  the  name  of  Charlie  Chaplin  will 
we  do  now?  Potts  will  be  here  to-morrow 
to  see  this  picture  and  you  know  what  it 
means,  if  it  isn't  made!" 

The  Kid  is  over  talkin'  to  Miss  Vincent 
and  Genaro  calls  him  over. 

"Viola!"  he  tells  him.  "You  see  what 
you  do?  You  spoil  the  greata  picture,  the 
actor,  the  everything!  To-morrow  Mr. 
Potts  he'sa  come  here.  'Where's  a  Reech- 
ard  the  Third,  Genaro?'  he'sa  wanna  know. 
I  tella  him — then,  good-by  everybody!" 

"Everything  would  have  been  O.  K.," 
says  the  Kid,  pointin'  to  De  Vronde  who's 
got  a  couple  of  dames  workin'  over  him 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  45 

with  smellin'  salts.  "Everything  would 
have  been  O.  K.  at  that,  if  Stupid  over  there 
hadn't  gimme  the  haw,  hawl" 

We  go  back  to  the  dressin'-room  and  the 
Kid  gets  on  his  clothes.  That  night,  findin' 
that  we  was  as  welcome  in  Film  City  as 
smallpox,  we  went  over  to  Frisco  and  saw 
the  town. 

When  we  come  back  the  next  mornin' 
and  breeze  in  the  gates,  the  first  thing  we 
see  is  Gloomy  Gus  that  drove  us  up  from 
the  station. 

"Say!"  he  sings  out.  "You  fellers  are 
gonna  get  it  good!  The  boss  is  here." 

"Yeh?"  says  the  Kid.  "Where's  Miss 
Vincent?" 

"Talkin'  to  the  boss!"  he  answers.  "I 
don't  believe  you're  no  fighter,  either!" 

"Where  was  you  yesterday?"  I  asks 
him. 

"Mind  yer  own  business!"  he  snaps.  He 
gives  the  Kid  the  up  and  down.  "Cham- 
pion of  the  world !"  he  sneers.  "Huh !" 


46  KID  SCANLAN 

''Go  'way!"  the  Kid  warns  him.  "I  got 
enough  work  yesterday!" 

"I  think  you're  a  big  bluff!"  persists  the 
gloomy  guy,  puttin'  up  his  hands  and  cir- 
clin'  around  the  Kid.  "Come  on  and  fight 
or  acknowledge  yore  master!" 

He  makes  a  pass  at  the  Kid  and  the  Kid 
steps  inside  of  it  and  drops  him,  just  as  a 
big  auto  comes  roarin'  past  and  stops. 
Out  hops  friend  Potts,  the  guy  that  prac- 
tically give  us  our  start  in  the  movies. 
In  other  words,  the  thirty  thousand  dollar 
kid! 

"Well,  well!"  he  pipes,  lookin'  at  the 
gloomy  guy  on  the  turf  and  then  at  us. 
"What  does  this  mean,  sir?  Are  you  try- 
ing to  annihilate  all  my  employees?  Do 
you  know  you  cost  me  a  small  fortune  yes- 
terday by  ruining  that  Richard  the  Third 
picture?" 

"I'm  sorry,  boss,"  the  Kid  tells  him,  prod- 
din'  Gloomy  Gus  carelessly  with  his  foot, 
"but  all  your  hired  men  jumped  at  me  at 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  4? 

once  and  a  guy  has  to  protect  himself,  don't 
he?" 

"Nonsense!"  grunts  Potts.  "You  as- 
saulted Mr.  De  Vronde  and  temporarily 
disabled  several  of  my  best  people!  I  had 
made  all  arrangements  for  the  release  of 
that  Shakespeare  picture  in  two  days,  and 
you  have  put  me  in  a  terrible  hole!" 

"Now,  listen,"  I  butts  in,  "I  tried  to—" 

"Not  a  word!"  he  cuts  me  off,  wavin'  his 
hands.  "One  of  the  camera  men,  another 
infernal  idiot,  kept  turning  the  crank  while 
this  disgraceful  brawl  was  at  its  height  and 
I  have  proof  of  your  villainy  on  film!  I'll 
use  it  as  a  basis  to  sever  my  contract  with 
you  and — " 

"Slow  up!"  I  says.  "If  you  lay  down  on 
the  thirty  thousand  iron  men,  I'll  pull  a  suit 
on  you!" 

Along  comes  a  guy  and  touches  Potts  on 
the  arm. 

"They're  waiting  for  you  in  the  project- 
ing room,"  he  says. 


48  KID  SCANLAN 

"Come  with  me — both  of  you!"  barks 
Potts,  "and  see  for  yourself  the  damage  you 
caused!" 

We  followed  him  around  to  a  little  dark 
room  with  three  or  four  chairs  in  it  and  a 
sheet  on  one  wall.  De  Vronde,  Miss  Vin- 
cent, Duke  and  Genaro  are  there  waitin' 
for  us. 

Well,  they  start  to  show  the  picture,  and 
everything  is  all  right  up  to  the  time  the 
Kid  busted  into  the  drama.  Now  I  hadn't 
seen  nothin'  out  of  the  way  at  the  time  it  ac- 
tually happened,  but  here  in  this  little  room 
it  was  a  riot  when  they  showed  it  on  the 
sheet.  You  could  see  Scanlan  wallop  De 
Vronde  and  then  in  another  second  the 
massacre  is  on  full  blast! 

On  the  level,  it  was  the  funniest  thing  I'd 
seen  in  a  looe;  time.  A  guy  with  lockjaw 
would  have  to  laugh  at  it.  Here  was  the 
Kid  knockin'  'em  cold  as  fast  as  they  come 
on,  with  their  little  trick  hats  and  the  pink 
silk  tights.  There  was  a  pile  of  Shakes* 


LAY  OFF,  MACDUFF!  49 

peare  actors  a  foot  deep  all  around  him  as 
far  as  you  could  see.  Potts  is  laughin' 
louder  than  anybody  in  the  place,  and  when 
they  finally  shut  the  thing  off  he  slaps  the 
'Kid  on  the  back. 

"Great!"  he  hollers.  'Wonderful! 
Who  directed  that?" 

"I  did!"  pipes  Duke,  throwin'  out  his 
chest.  "Some  picture,  eh?" 

"Joosta  one  minoote!"  says  Genaro, 
wakin'  up,  "joosta  one  minoote!  It  was  un- 
der my  supervision,  Mr.  Potts  I  I  feexa  the 
j> 

"Cut  that  strip  of  film  off!"  Potts  in- 
terrupts, "and  take  four  more  reels  based  on 
the  same  idea!  Get  somebody  to  write  a 
scenario  around  a  fighter  busting  into  the 
drama  and  playing  Shakespeare!  It's 
never  been  done,  and  if  the  rest  of  it  is  as 
funny  as  that  it  will  be  a  knockout!" 

"But  Reechard!"  says  Genaro.  "What 
of  heem?" 

"Drop  it!"  snaps  Potts.     "Everybody  get 


5o  KID  SCANLAN 

to  work  on  this  and  I'll  stay  here  till  it's  fin- 
ished!" 

I  looked  around  and  pipe  the  Kid — over 
talkin'  to  Miss  Vincent,  of  course. 

"Say!"  he  wants  to  know.  "Do  we  go 
to  Oakland  in  that  rabbit-chaser  of  yours 
this  afternoon,  Miss  Vincent?" 

"Sir!"  butts  in  De  Vronde.  "This  lady 
and  I  are  conversing!" 

"Now  listen,  Cutey!"  smiles  the  Kid. 
"You  know  what  happened  yesterday,  don't 
you?" 

De  Vronde  turns  pale  and  Miss  Vincent 
giggles. 

"Of  course  we're  going  to  Oakland!"  she 
laughs.  "I'm  going  to  be  your  leading 
woman  next  week  in  'How  Kid  Scanlan 
Won  the  Title.' " 

"Suits  me!"  says  the  Kid.  "But  say,  on 
the  level  now — I'm  there  forty-seven  ways 
on  that  Shakespeare  thing,  ain't  I?" 


CHAPTER  II 

EAST  LYNCH 

OUCCESS  has  ruined  more  guys  than 
^*  failure  ever  will.  It's  like  a  Santa 
Cruz  rum  milk  punch  on  an  empty  stomach 
— there's  very  few  people  can  stand  it. 
Many  a  guy  that's  a  regular  fellow  at  a  hun- 
dred a  month,  becomes  a  boob  at  a  hundred 
a  week.  What  beat  Napoleon,  Cassar  and 
Nero — failure?  No,  success  I  Give  the 
thing  the  once  over  some  time  and  you'll  see 
that  I'm  right. 

Success  is  the  large  evenin'  with  the  boys 
at  the  lodge  and  failure  is  the  mornin'  after. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  they're  twins.  Often 
you  can  be  a  success  without  knowin'  it,  so 
if  you  been  a  failure  all  your  life  accordin' 
to  your  own  dope,  cheer  up.  But  when  you 
get  up  to  the  top  where  you  can  look  down 
at  all  these  other  guys  tryin'  to  sidestep  the 

51 


52  KID  SCANLAN 

banana  peels  of  life  and  climb  up  with  you, 
knock  off  thinkin'  what  a  big  guy  you  are 
for  a  minute  and  give  ten  minutes  to 
thinkin'  what  a  tough  time  you  had  gettin* 
there.  Give  five  minutes  more  to  rumi- 
natin'  on  how  long  the  mob  remembers  a 
loser  and  you'll  find  it  the  best  sixteen  min- 
utes you  ever  spent  in  your  life. 

In  these  days  when  the  world  is  just  a 
great  big  baby  yellin'  for  a  new  toy  every 
second,  any  simp  can  beat  his  way  to  the 
top.  The  real  stunt  is  stayin'  there  after 
you  arrive! 

'Kid  Scanlan  was  a  good  sample  of  that. 
When  the  'Kid  was  fightin'  for  bean  money 
and  the  exercise,  he  never  spent  nothin'  but 
the  evenin'  and  very  little  of  that.  He 
didn't  know  whether  booze  was  a  drink  or 
a  liniment  and  the  only  ladies  he  \vas  both- 
ered about  was  his  mother.  But  when  he 
knocked  out  One-Punch  Ross  for  the  title 
and  eased  himself  into  the  movies,  it  was  all 
different.  He  begin  to  spend  money  like  a 


EAST  LYNCH  53 

vice-investigating  committee,  knock  around 
with  bartenders  and  give  in  to  all  the 
strange  desires  that  hits  a  guy  with  his 
health  and  a  bankroll.  I  stood  by  and 
cheered  for  a  while  until  he  crashes  in  love 
with  this  movie  queen,  Miss  Vincent,  that 
got  more  money  a  start  than  the  Kid  did  in 
a  season  and  more  letters  from  well  wishin' 
males  than  a  newly  elected  mayor.  Then 
I  stepped  in  and  saved  the  Kid  just  before 
he  become  a  total  loss. 

I  was  standin'  by  the  African  Desert  one 
day  warchin'  them  take  a  picture  called 
"Rapacious  Rupert's  Revenge,"  when  the 
'Kid  comes  over  and  calls  me  aside.  Since 
he  had  become  a  actor  he  had  gave  himself 
up  to  dressin'  in  panama  hats,  Palm  Beach 
suits  and  white  shoes.  He  reminded  me  of 
the  handsome  young  lieutenant  in  a  musical 
comedy.  Every  time  I  seen  him  in  that 
outfit  I  expected  to  hear  him  burst  into  some 
song  like,  "All  hail,  the  Queen  comes 
thither!"  Know  what  I  mean? 


54  KID  SCANLAN 

Well,  havin'  lured  me  away  under  the 
shade  of  some  palm  trees,  the  Kid  tells  me 
he's  goin'  over  to  Frisco  on  a  little  shoppin' 
expedition,  and  he  wants  me  to  come  with 
him.  I  says  I  can't  drink  a  thing  because 
I  have  had  a  terrible  headache  since  the 
night  before  when  him  and  me  and  some 
camera  men  went  to  Montana  Bill's  and 
toyed  with  the  illegal  brew  for  a  few  hours. 

"That  last  round,"  I  says,  "which  I'll  al- 
ways remember  because  it  come  to  six 
eighty-five,  was  what  ruined  me.  The  bar- 
tender must  have  gone  crazy  and  put  bocrze 
in  them  cocktails,  because  I've  had  that 
headache  ever  since!" 

"It  ain't  the  cocktails  that  give  you  the 
headache,"  the  Kid  tells  me,  "it  was  the 
check.  And  you  must  have  had  a  bun  on 
before  that,  anyhow,  because  you  paid  it  I 
But  that's  got  nothin'  to  do  with  this  here 
trip  to  Frisco.  I'm  not  goin'  to  stop  any- 
wheres for  no  powders.  I'm  gonna  get 
somethin'  I've  needed  for  a  long  time!" 


EAST  LYNCH  55 

"What  is  it,"  I  asks  him,  "a  clean  col- 
lar?" 

"I  wish  you'd  save  that  comedy  for  some 
rainy  Sunday,"  he  says;  "that  stuff  of  yours 
is  about  as  funny  as  a  broken  arm!  Since 
I  been  out  here  with  these  swell  actors, 
I  been  changin'  my  clothes  so  often  that 

• 

I'll  bet  my  body  thinks  I'm  kiddin'  it. 
Stop  knockin'  and  come  over  to  Frisco  with 
me  and— 

I  don't  know  what  else  he  was  goin'  to 
say,  because  just  at  that  minute  a  Kansas 
cyclone  on  wheels  come  between  us  and  I 
come  to  in  a  ditch  about  five  feet  from 
where  the  Kid  is  tryin'  to  see  can  he  really 
stand  on  his  head.  When  I  had  picked  up 
enough  ambition  to  get  to  my  feet,  I  went 
over  and  jacked  up  the  Kid.  About  half 
a  mile  up  the  road  the  thing  which  had  at- 
tacked us  is  turnin'  around. 

"Run  for  your  life!"  I  yells  to  the  Kid. 
"It's  comin'  back!" 

Before  we  could  pick  our  hidin'  places, 


56  KID  SCANLAN 

the  thing  has  drawed  up  in  front  of  us  and 
we  see  it's  one  of  them  trick  autos  known  to 
the  trade  as  racin'  cars.  I  recognized  it 
right  away  as  belongin'  to  Miss  Vincent. 
The  owner  was  in  the  car  and  beside  her 
was  Edmund  De  Vronde,  the  shop-girls' 
delight.  The  Kid  and  De  Vronde  had 
took  to  each  other  from  the  minute  they 
first  met  like  a  ferret  does  to  a  rat.  It 
was  a  case  of  hate  at  first  sight.  So 
you  can  figure  that  this  little  incident  did 
nothin'  to  cement  the  friendship.  Miss 
Vincent  leaps  out  of  the  thing  and  comes 
runnin'  over  to  us. 

"Good  Heavens!"  she  says.  "You're  not 
hurt,  are  you?" 

She's  lookin'  right  past  me  and  at  the  Kid 
like  it  made  little  or  no  difference  whether 
/  was  damaged  or  not. 

The  Kid  throws  half  an  acre  of  Califor- 
nia out  of  his  collar  and  removes  a  few  peb- 
bles and  a  cigar  butt  from  his  ear. 


EAST  LYNCH  57 

"No!"  he  growls,  with  a  sarcastical  smile. 
""Was  they  many  killed?" 

She  takes  out  a  little  trick  silk  handker- 
chief and  wipes  off  his  face  with  it. 

"I  meant  to  step  on  the  foot  brake,"  she 
explains,  "and  I  must  have  stepped  on  the 
,gas  by  mistake!" 

"You  must  have  stepped  on  the  dyna- 
mite," I  butts  in,  "because  it  Mowed  me 
into  the  ditch!" 

The  Kid  shakes  a  bucket  or  so  of  sand 
out  of  his  hair  and  looks  over  at  the  car 
where  De  Vronde  is  examin'  us  through  a 
pair  of  cheaters  and  enjoyin'  himself  scan- 
dalously. 

"I  see  you  got  Foolish  with  you,"  says 
the  Kid  to  Miss  Vincent.  "What's  the 
matter — are  you  off  me  now?" 

She  smiles  and  wipes  some  mud  off  the 
Kid's  collar. 

"Why,  no,"  she  tells  him.  "Genaro  is 
putting  on  'The  Escapes  of  Eva'  this  morn- 


5  8  KID  SCANLAN 

ing  and  I'm  playing  the  lead  opposite  Mr. 
De  Vronde.  I  happened  to  pick  him  up 
on  the  road  and  I'm  bringing  him  in,  that's 
all." 

"Yeh?"  says  the  Kid,  still  lookin'  over  at 
the  car.  "What  are  you  laughin'  at,  Stu- 
pid?" he  snarls  suddenly  at  De  Vronde. 

De  Vronde  give  a  shiver  and  the  glasses 
fell  off  in  the  bottom  of  the  car.  While  he 
was  stoopin'  down  to  look  for  'em,  the  Kid 
turns  to  Miss  Vincent. 

"I  only  wish  he  had  been  drivin'  the 
thing,"  he  says,  "because  then  I'd  have 
some  excuse  for  bouncin'  him!  On  the 
level,  now,"  he  goes  on,  winkin'  at  her,  "he 
was  drivin'  the  thing,  wasn't  he?" 

"Oh,  no!"  she  answers.  "I  was  at  the 
wheel." 

The  Kid  frowns  and  thinks  for  a  minute. 

"Well,"  he  says  finally,  takin'  another 
look  at  De  Vronde,  "ain't  the  brakes  or 
somethin'  where  he  was  sittin'?" 

"No!"  she  tells  him,  grabbin'  him  by  the 


EAST  LYNCH  59 

arm.  "Please  don't  lose  your  head  now 
and  start  a  fuss!  I'm  awfully  sorry  this 
happened,  but  as  long  as  neither  of  you 
were  hurt  and — " 

"It  didn't  do  me  no  good,  that's  a  cinch!" 
butts  in  the  Kid,  with  a  meanin'  look  at  his 
spoiled  scenery.  He  walks  over  to  the  car 
and  glares  up  at  De  Vronde.  "Hey!"  he 
snarls:  "What  d'ye  mean  by  bein'  in  a 
automobile  that  runs  over  me,  eh?" 

De  Vronde  moves  as  far  over  as  the 
seat  will  let  him,  and  then  falls  back  on 
prayer. 

"I  must  decline  to  enter  any  controversy 
with  you,"  he  pipes,  after  a  minute.  "You 
were  standing  in  the  right  of  way  and — ' 

The  Kid  grins  and  holds  up  his  hand. 
His  face  has  lighted  all  up  and  he's  lickin' 
his  lips  like  he  always  did  in  the  ring  when 
he  seen  the  other  guy  was  pickin'  out  a  place 
to  fall.  He's  walked  around  to  where  De 
Vronde  had  been  sittin'  and  piped  a  little 
handle  stickin'  up. 


6o  KID  SCANLAN 

"What's  this?"  he  calls  to  Miss  Vincent, 
who's  climbin'  in  the  other  side. 

"That's  just  the  oil  pump,"  she  says. 

The  Kid  suddenly  reaches  up,  grabs  De 
Vronde  by  the  arm  and  jerks  him  out  of  the 
car. 

"You  big  stiff!"  he  roars.  "Why  didn't 
you  pump  that  oil,  hey?  If  you  had  done 
that,  the  thing  wouldn't  have  hit  us!  I 
knowed  it  was  all  your  fault — you  deliber- 
ately laid  off  that  pump,  hopin'  we'd  get 
killed!" 

With  that  he  starts  an  uppercut  from  the 
ground,  but  I  yanked  him  away  just  as  De 
Vronde  murmurs,  "Safety  first!"  and  takes 
a  dive.  Miss  Vincent  gets  out  and  gives 
me  a  hand  with  the  Kid,  and  De  Vronde 
sits  up  and  menaces  us  with  his  cane. 

"That  isn't  a  bit  nice!"  Miss  Vincent 
frowns  at  the  Kid.  "That's  ruffianly  I 
You  never  should  have  struck  him!" 

"I  didn't  hit  him!"  yells  the  Kid.     "The 


EAST  LYNCH  61: 

big  tramp  quit!  If  I  had  hit  him  he 
wouldn't  be  gettin'  up." 

He  starts  over  again,  but  I  held  him  un- 
til she  has  climbed  into  the  car  with  De 
Vronde  and  they  shoot  up  the  road.  Just 
before  they  disappeared,  De  Vronde  turns 
around  in  the  seat  and  shakes  his  finger  at 
us. 

"Only  the  presence  of  the  lady,"  he  calls, 
"saves  you  from  my  wrath !" 

"Come  on!"  says  the  Kid,  grabbin'  my 
arm.  "Let's  get  the  next  train  for  Frisco, 
before  I  run  after  that  guy  and  flatten  him! 
Believe  me,"  he  goes  on,  lookin'  up  the 
road  after  the  car,  "I'll  get  that  bird  before 
the  day  is  over  if  I  have  to  bust  a  leg!" 

And  that's  just  what  he  did — both! 

All  the  way  over  in  the  train  I  tried  to 
work  the  third  degree  on  the  Kid  to  find  out 
what  he  was  goin'  to  buy,  but  there  was 
nothin'  doin'.  He  stalled  me  off  until  we 
pull  into  the  town  and  then  he  takes  me  to 


•62  KID  SCANLAN 

a  street  that  was  so  far  from  the  railroad 
station  I  come  near  castin'  a  shoe  on  the 
way  over.  About  half  way  down  this  boul- 
evard there's  a  garage  and  the  Kid  stops  in 
front  of  it. 

"Wait  here!"  he  tells  me.  "And  don't 
let  nobody  give  you  no  babies  to  mind. 
I'll  be  right  out!" 

He  slips  inside  and  I'm  lookin'  the  joint 
over  when  a  big  sign  catches  my  eye.  I 
took  one  good  flash  at  the  thing,  and  then 
I  starts  right  in  after  the  Kid.  A  friend  of 
mine  in  New  York  had  gone  into  a  place 
with  a  sign  on  it  like  that  one  time  and  made 
a  purchase.  Six  months  later  when  he 
come  out  of  the  hospital,  he  claimed  the 
bare  smell  of  gasoline  made  him  faint. 
Here's  what  it  said  on  that  sign, 

I.  MARKOWITZ 

USED  AND  NEARLY  NEW  AUTOS 
FOR  SALE 


EAST  LYNCH  '63 

It  was  kinda  dark  inside  and  it  takes  me 
a  minute  to  get  my  bearin's,  but  finally  I  see 
the  Kid  and  a  snappy  dressed  guy  standin' 
in  front  of  what  I  at  first  thought  was  a 
Pullman  sleeper.  When  I  get  a  close  up, 
though,  I  find  it's  only  a  tourin'  car.  It 
was  the  biggest  automobile  I  ever  seen  in 
my  life ;  a  sightseein'  bus  would  have  looked 
like  a  runabout  alongside  of  it.  There  was 
one  there  and  it  did!  The  thing  hadn't 
been  painted  since  the  Maine  was  blowed 
up,  and  you  could  see  the  guy  that  had  been 
keepin'  it  was  fond  of  the  open  air,  because 
there  was  samples  of  mud  from  probably 
all  over  the  world  on  it. 

"You  could  believe  it,  you're  gettin'  it  a 
practically  brand  new  car!"  the  young  fel- 
ler is  tellin'  the  Kid.  "The  shoes  are  in  A 
number  one  condition — all  they  need  is  now 
vulcanizin',  and  Oi! — how  that  car  could 
travel!" 

"Just  a  minute!"  I  butts  in.     "Before  you 


64  KID  SCANLAN 

make  this  sale,  I  want  to  speak  to  my  friend 
here." 

Both  him  and  the  Kid  glares  at  me,  and 
the  Kid  pushes  me  aside. 

"Lay  off!"  he  says.  "I  know  just  what 
you're  gonna  say.  There's  no  use  of  you 
tryin'  to  discourage  me,  because  I'm  gonna 
buy  a  car.  Here  I  am  makin'  all  kinds  of 
money  and  I  might  as  well  be  a  bum! — no 
automobile  or  nothin'.  I  should  have  had 
a  car  long  ago ;  all  the  big  leaguers  own  their 
own  tourin'  cars.  There's  no  class  to  you 
any  more,  if  you  don't  flit  from  place  to 
place  in  your  own  bus!" 

"Yeh?"  I  comes  back.  "Well,  Washing- 
ton never  had  no  car,  but  that  didn't  stop 
him  from  gettin'  over!  I  never  heard  of 
Columbus  gettin'  pinched  for  speedin'  and 
Shakespeare  never  had  no  trouble  with 
blowouts.  Yet  all  them  birds  was  looked 
on  as  the  loud  crash  in  their  time.  What's 
the  answer  to  that?" 


EAST  LYNCH  "6$ 

In  butts  I.  Markowitz,  shovin'  his  hat 
back  on  his  ears. 

"That  brings  us  right  down  to  the  pres- 
ent!" he  says.  "And  I  could  tell  you  why 
none  of  your  friends  had  oitermobiles. 
Cars  was  too  expensive  in  them  days — a 
millionaire  even  would  have  to  talk  it  over 
with  his  wife  before  they  should  buy  one. 
But  now,  almost  they  give  them  away! 
Materials  is  cheaper,  in  Europe  the  war  is 
over  and  now  competition  is — is — more! 
That's  why  I'm  able  to  let  your  friend  have 
this  factory  pet  here  for  eight  hundred 
dollars.  A  bargain  you  ask  me?  A  man 
never  heard  a  bargain  like  that!" 

"Don't  worry!"  I  tells  him.  "Nobody 
will  ever  hear  about  it  from  me.  If  you 
made  him  a  present  of  it  and  throwed  in 
the  garage,  it  would  still  be  expensive!" 

"Who's  buyin'  this  car?"  snarls  the  Kid. 
"You  or  me?" 

"Not  guilty!"  I  says.    "If  you  got  to 


66  KID  SCANLAN 

have  a  car,  why  don't  you  buy  a  new  one?" 

"This  is  the  same  as  new!"  pipes  I.  Mark- 
owitz. 

"Speak  when  you're  spoken  to,  Stupid!" 
I  says. 

"Don't  start  nothin'  here,"  the  Kid  tells 
me,  pullin'  me  away.  "I  don't  want  none 
of  them  new  cars.  They're  too  stiff  and  I 
might  go  out  and  hit  somebody  the  first 
crack  out  of  the  box.  I  want  one  that's 
been  broke  in." 

"Well,"  I  laughs,  "that's  what  you're 
gettin',  believe  me!  That  there  thing  has 
been  broke  in  and  out!"  I  turns  to  I. 
Markowitz.  "What  make  is  the  old 
boiler?"  I  asks  him. 

"Boiler  he  calls  it!"  he  says,  throwin'  up 
his  hands  and  lookin'  at  the  ceilin'.  "It's 
an  A.  G.  F.  I  suppose  even  you  know  what 
an  A  number  one  car  that  is,  don't  you?" 

"No!"  I  answers.  "But  I  know  what  A. 
G.  F.  means." 


EAST  LYNCH  67 

He  falls. 

"What?"  he  wants  to  know. 

"Always  Gettin'  Fixed!"  I  tells  him. 
"They  make  all  them  used  cars.  I  know  a 
guy  had  two  of  them  and  between  'em  they 
made  a  fortune  for  three  garages  and  five 
lawyers!  How  old  is  it?" 

"Old!"  says  I.  Markowitz,  recovering 
"Who  said  it  was  old?  Your  wife  should 
be  as  young  as  that  car!  It  was  turned  in 
here  last  week,  only  eight  short  days  from 
the  factory.  The  owner  was  sudden  called 
he  should  go  out  of  town  and— 

"And  he  went  somewheres  and  got  an  au- 
tomobile to  make  the  trip,"  I  cuts  him  off, 
"and  left  this  thing  here!" 

"Don't  mind  him!"  says  the  Kid,  gettin7 
impatient.  "Gimme  a  receipt."  He  digs 
down  for  the  roll. 

While  I.  Markowitz  is  countin'  the 
money  with  lovin'  fingers,  I  went  around  to 
one  side  of  the  so  called  auto  and  looked  at 


68  KID  SCANLAN 

the  speedometer.  One  flash  at  the  little 
trick  clock  was  ample. 

"Stop!"  I  yells,  glarin'  at  him.  "How 
long  did  you  say  this  car  had  been  out  of 
the  factory?" 

"Right  away  he  hollers  at  me!"  says  I. 
Markowitz  to  the  Kid.  "A  week." 

"Well,"  I  tells  him,  "all  I  got  to  say  is 
that  the  bird  that  had  it  must  have  been 
fleein'  the  police!  He  certainly  seen  a  lot 
of  the  world,  but  I  can't  figure  how  he 
slept.  He  was  what  you  could  call  a  mo- 
torin'  fool.  It  says  on  this  speedometer 
here,  45,687  miles  and  if  that  guy  did  it  in 
a  week,  I  got  to  hand  it  to  him!  I'll  bet 
he's  so  nutty  over  speed  that  he's  goin' 
around  now  bein'  shot  out  of  cannons  from 
place  to  place,  eh?" 

I.  Markowitz  gets  kinda  balled  up  and 
blows  his  nose  twice. 

"That  must  be  the — the — motor  num- 
ber!" he  stammers. 

"Sure!"    nods    the    Kid.     "Don't   mind 


EAST  LYNCH  69 

him,  he's  always  got  the  hammer  out. 
Count  that  change  and  gimme  a  receipt." 

"Wait!"  I  says.  "Gimme  one  more 
chance  to  save  you  from  givin'  yourself  the 
work.  Have  you  heard  the  motor  turn 
over?  Does  the  clutch  slip  in  all  right? 
Do  the  brakes  work?  Has  the— 

"Say!"  butts  in  the  Kid.  "What  d'ye 
think  I  been  doin' — workin'  here  at  nights? 
Don't  mind  him,"  he  tells  I.  Markowitz, 
who  ain't.  "Hurry  up  with  that  receipt!" 

"How  is  the  motor?"  I  asks  that  brigand. 
"Tell  me  that,  will  you?" 

"Convalescent!"  he  sneers,  tuckin'  the 
Kid's  bankroll  away. 

"Some  motor,  eh?"  pipes  the  Kid.  "And 
it's  got  a  one-man  top  on  it  besides,  ain't 
it?"  he  asks  I.  Markowitz. 

"Why  not?"  says  he.  "Everything  new 
and  up  to  date  you  would  find  on  this  car 
which  only  yesterday  I  could  have  sold  to 
a  feller  for  a  thousand  dollars!" 

After  pullin'  that,  he  walks  over  to  the 


70  KID  SCANLAN 

thing  and  climbs  in  the  back.  "An  exam- 
ple!" he  says.  "If  you're  alone  in  the  car 
and  there's  nobody  with  you,  you  only 
should  stand  up  on  the  seat  and  pull  up  the 
top  like  this,  if  it  comes  up  a  rain.  Then 
you — " 

I  didn't  hear  the  rest  on  account  of  him 
havin'  trouble  makin'  his  voice  travel  from 
under  the  seat,  because  he  reached  up  and 
pulled  somethin'  here  and  jerked  somethin' 
there — and  that  one-man  top  made  good! 
I  thought  at  first  the  ceilin'  of  the  joint  had 
fell  in,  and  I'll  bet  I.  Markowitz  knowed 
it  had,  but  then  I  seen  it  was  only  the  thing 
that  keeps  the  rain  out  of  the  car.  Me  and 
the  Kid  drags  him  out,  and  as  soon  as  he 
gets  on  his  feet  and  felt  to  see  if  he  had  his 
watch  and  so  forth,  he  wipes  the  dirt  out 
of  his  eyes  and  turns  on  me. 

"It's  a  wonder  I  ain't  now  dead  on  ac- 
count from  you!"  he  snarls.  "I  suppose 
you're  one  of  them  wise  fellers  from  New 


EAST  LYNCH  71 

Jersey,  which  they  got  to  be  showed  every- 
thing, heh?" 

"Missouri!"  I  says.  "Not  New  Jersey. 
If  I  was  from  New  Jersey,  I  would  prob- 
ably be  fightin'  with  the  Kid  to  let  me  buy 
the  car!" 

"It's  got  a  self-commencer  on  it,  too!" 
yelps  the  Kid,  climbin'  into  the  front  seat. 
"See — lookit!"  He  presses  a  button  with 
his  foot  and  a  laughin'  hyena  or  somethin'  in 
the  hood  moans  a  couple  of  times  and  then 
passes  away. 

"The  first  time  I  wouldn't  be  surprised 
you  should  have  to  crank  it,"  says  I.  Mark- 
owitz.  "The  motor  has  been  standin'  so 
long — I  mean — that  is — speakin'  of  motors, 
I  think  that  one  is  maybe  a  little  cold! 
Once  she  gets  runnin'  everything  will  be 
A  number  one!" 

I  goes  around  the  front  of  the  thing  and 
stoops  down. 

"Put  her  on  battery,  if  there's  any  on 


72  KID  SCANLAN 

there,"  I  calls  to  the  Kid,  "and  I'll  spin  the 
motor!" 

I.  Markowitz  steps  over  and  lays  his 
hand  on  my  arm.  His  face  is  as  serious  as 
prohibition. 

"It's  only  fair  I  should  tell  you,"  he  whis- 
pers, "that  she  kicks  a  little!" 

I  give  him  a  ungrateful  look  and  grabs 
hold  of  the  crank.  After  turnin'  the  thing 
ninety-four  times  without  gettin'  nothin'  but 
a  blister  on  my  thumb,  I  quit. 

"Nothin'  stirrin',"  I  remarks  to  I.  Mark- 
owitz. 

"Believe  me,  that's  funny!"  he  tells  me, 
shakin'  his  head  like  he  had  ball  bearin's  in 
his  neck. 

"Ain't  it?"  I  says.  "Are  you  positive 
they's  a  motor  inside  there?" 

He  makes  a  funny  little  noise  in  his 
throat  and  not  knowin'  him  long,  I  didn't 
know  what  he  meant.  There's  a  big  husky 
in  overalls  walkin'  by  with  plenty  of  med- 
ium oil  on  his  face  and  a  monkey  wrench 


EAST  LYNCH  73 

in  his  hand.  I.  Markowitz  hisses  at  him, 
and  they  exchange  jokes  in  some  foreign 
language  for  a  minute  and  then  the  new- 
comer grabs  hold  of  that  crank  like  the  idea 
was  to  see  if  he  could  upset  the  car  in  three 
twists.  He  gives  it  a  turn,  and  I  guess  the 
Kid  had  got  to  monkeyin'  around  them  lit- 
tle buttons  on  the  steerin'  wheel  because  it 
went  off  like  a  cannon.  First,  there  was  a 
great  big  bang!  And  then  a  cloud  of 
smoke  rolls  out  of  the  back  of  the  car  and 
the  bird  that  had  wound  the  thing  up  come 
to  in  an  oil  can,  half  way  across  the  floor. 
The  Kid  fell  off  the  seat  and  me  and  I. 
Markowitz  busted  the  hundred  yard  record 
to  the  front  door. 

"That  was  a  rotten  trick,  wasn't  it?"  I 
asks  him  when  we  stopped. 

"What  do  you  talk  tricks?"  he  pants. 

"Why,"  I  tells  him,  "puttin'  that  dyna- 
mite in  the  hoodl" 

"That  wasn't  dynamite,"  he  says.  "She 
only  backfired  a  little.I  wouldn't  be  sur- 


74  KID  SCANLAN 

prised  if  it  turned  out  there  was,  now,  too 
much  air  in  the  carburetor.  The  only  rea- 
son I  ran  out  here  is  because  I  seen  it  passin' 
a  friend  of  mine  and — " 

"I  know,"  I  cuts  him  off.  "I  seen  it 
too!" 

We  go  back  to  the  Kid  and  his  play  toy, 
and  he's  leanin'  up  against  the  side  of  it 
rubbin'  his  shoulder  and  scowlin'. 

"What  kind  of  stuff  was  that,  eh?"  he 
growls  at  I.  Markowitz.  "I  liked  to  broke 
my  neck!" 

"'Snothin'!"  says  he,  pattin'  the  Kid  on 
the  back  and  smilin'.  "You  could  do  that 
with  a  new  car,  you  could  take  my  word  for 
it.  It's  all,  now,  experience!"  He  looks 
around.  "Herschel!"  he  hollers. 

It  turns  out  that  Herschel  is  the  guy  that 
had  wound  the  thing  up,  and  he  gets  out  of 
the  oil  can  and  comes  over,  muttetin' 
to  himself  and  glarin'  at  all  of  us.  He 
takes  off  the  hood  and  stalls  around  it  with 
a  hammer  and  a  monkey  wrench  for  a  min- 


EAST  LYNCH  75 

ute,  still  mutterin'  away,  and  you  could  see 
he  wasn't  wishin'  us  no  luck.  Finally,  he 
puts  the  hood  on  again  and  walks  around 
to  the  crank. 

"As  soon  as  you  could  hear  it  buzz,"  he 
grunts  at  the  Kid,  "you  should  give  her 
some  gas." 

I  stood  aside  and  picked  out  my  exit,  and 
I.  Markowitz  seen  his  friend  passin'  again 
so  he  started  for  the  door.  The  Kid  says 
we're  both  yellah  and  climbs  gamely  back 
into  the  seat.  Herschel  stops  mutterin' 
long  enough  to  give  the  crank  a  turn,  which 
same  he  did.  This  time  there  was  no  shots 
fired,  but  the  thing  begins  the  darndest 
racket  I  ever  heard  in  my  life.  A  boiler 
factory  would  have  quit  cold  alongside  of 
that  motor  and  a  cavalry  charge  would  have 
gone  unnoticed  on-  the  same  floor.  I  asked 
I.  Markowitz  what  broke,  and  he  says 
nothin'  but  that  the  noise  is  caused  by  the 
motor  bein'  so  powerful,  fifty  horse  power, 
he  claimed. 


7(5  KID  SCANLAN 

"You  can't  tell  me,"  I  says,  backin'  away 
from  the  thing,  "that  no  fifty  horses  could 
make  that  much  noise,  not  even  if  they  was 
crazy!  The  guy  that  brought  that  in  here 
must  have  tied  a  lot  of  machine  guns  to- 
gether with  a  fuse  and  Stupid  there  set  'em 
off  when  he  turned  the  crank!" 

He  runs  around  to  the  side  where  the  Kid 
is  and  shuts  down  the  gas  and  I  seen  half 
of  Frisco  lookin'  in  the  door,  figurin'  the 
Japs  had  got  started  at  last,  or  else  some- 
body was  puttin7  on  a  dress  rehearsal  of  the 
Civil  War. 

"Ain't  she  a  beauty?"  screams  I.  Mark- 
owitz  to  the  Kid,  barely  makin'  himself 
heard  over  the  din.  "Give  a  listen  how 
that  motor  turns  over — not  a  break  or  a 
miss  and  as  smooth  like  glass!  That's  hit- 
tin'  on  six,  all  right!" 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  I  says.  "I'm 
glad  it's  only  six,  because  the  thing  will 
have  to  quit  pretty  soon.  There  ain't  no 


EAST  LYNCH  77 

six  nothings  could  stand  up  under  that  hittin' 
much  longer!" 

I.  Markowitz  steps  on  the  runnin'  board 
and  holds  on  with  both  hands.  He  had  to, 
because  that  motor  had  got  the  car  doin'  a 
muscle  dance. 

"Where  d'ye  want  to  go?"  he  yells  to  the 
Kid.  "I'll  have  Herschel  take  you  out  so 
he  should  show  you  everything." 

"Tell  him  to  wash  his  face  instead!"  the 
Kid  hollers  back.  "I  don't  need  nobody  to 
show  me  nothin'  about  a  car.  Come  on!" 
he  yells  at  me.  "All  aboard  for  Film 
City!" 

"Ha!  Ha!"  I  sneers.  "Rave  on!  I 
wouldn't  get  in  that  thing  for  Rockefeller's 
bankroll!" 

I  had  to  holler  at  the  top  of  my  voice  to 
drown  out  that  motor. 

"C'mon!"  yells  the  Kid.  "Don't  be  so 
yellah — you  got  everybody  lookin'  at  you. 
She's  all  right  now,  and  as  soon  as  she  gets 


78  KID  SCANLAN 

warmed  up  she'll  be  rollin'  along  in  great 
shape!" 

"Yes!"  I  says.  "And  so  will  I — in  a  day 
coach  of  the  Sante  Fe!" 

Well,  he  coaxed,  threatened  and  so- 
forthed  me,  until  finally  I  took  a  chance  and 
climbed  in  beside  him.  The  populace  at 
the  doors  give  three  cheers  and  wished  us 
good  luck  as  we  banged  and  rattled  through 
their  midst.  We  went  on  down  the  street, 
attractin'  no  more  attention  than  the  Ger- 
man army  would  in  London,  and  every  time 
we  turned  a  new  corner  people  run  out  of 
their  houses  to  see  was  there  a  parade 
comin'.  We  passed  several  sure  enough  au- 
tomobiles and  they  sneered  at  us,  and  one  of 
them  little  flivvers  got  so  upset  by  the  noise 
that  it  blowed  out  a  tire  as  we  went  by.  Fi- 
nally, we  come  to  the  city  line  and  the  Kid 
says  he  figures  it's  about  time  to  see  can  the 
thing  travel.  He  monkeys  around  them 
strange  buttons  on  the  steerin'  wheel,  pulls  a 
handle  here  and  there  and  presses  a  lever 


EAST  LYNCH  79 

with  his  foot.  The  minute  he  did  that  we 
got  action!  That  disappearin'  cannon  in 
the  back  went  off  three  times  and  I  bet  it 
blowed  up  all  the  buildin's  in  the  block. 
There  was  a  horse  and  buggy  passin'  at  the 
time  and  the  guy  that  was  drivin'  it  don't 
know  what  happened  yet,  because  at  the 
first  bang,  that  horse  started  for  the  old 
country  and  it  must  have  been  Lou  Dillon 
— believe  me,  it  could  run!  I  looked  back 
and  watched  it.  A  big  cloud  of  smoke  rolls 
up  from  the  back  of  the  car,  and  I  seen  guys 
runnin'  out  of  stores  and  wavin'  to  us  with 
their  fists  and  then  a  couple  of  brave  and 
bold  motorcycle  cops  jumps  on  their  fiery 
steeds  and  falls  in  behind. 

I  guess  the  ex-owner  of  this  bus  was  on 
the  level  at  that  about  doin'  them  forty-five 
thousand  miles  in  a  week,  because  this  car 
could  have  beat  a  telegram  across  the  coun- 
try, "when  she  got  warmed  up!"  as  I. 
Markowitz  says.  Every  one  of  them  six 
cylinders  was  in  there  tryin',  and  when  they 


8o  KID  SCANLAN 

worked  together  like  little  pals  and  forgot 
whatever  private  quarrels  they  had,  the  re- 
sult was  speed,  believe  me!  The  Kid  was 
hangin'  on  to  the  steerin'  wheel  and  havin' 
the  time  of  his  young  life  and  I  was  hangin* 
on  to  the  seat  and  wishin'  I  had  listened  to 
that  insurance  agent  in  New  York.  We 
come  to  the  top  of  a  hill  and  as  we  start  down 
the  other  side  the  prize  boob  of  the  county  is 
waterin'  the  pavement  around  his  real  estate. 
When  he  hears  us,  he  drops  the  hose  which 
makes  it  all  wet  in  front  of  us. 

"Hold  tight!"  screams  the  Kid  to  me. 
"We're  gonna  do  a  piece  of  skiddin'.  I 
forgot  to  get  chains!" 

Just  about  then  we  hit  the  damp  spot  and 
the  Kid  puts  on  the  brakes.  Sweet  Cookie  I 
You  should  have  seen  that  car!  It  must 
have  got  sore  at  the  man  with  the  hose  and 
went  crazy,  because  it  made  eight  complete 
turns  tryin'  to  get  at  him  and  the  poor  simp 
was  too  scared  to  run.  Finally  the  thing 
gives  it  up  and  shoots  down  to  the  bottom  of 


EAST  LYNCH  81 

the  hill.  We  hit  a  log  and  I  hit  the  one-man 
top.  Then  the  motor  calls  it  a  day  and  stops 
dead.  The  Kid  hops  out  and  walks  around 
to  the  crank.  He  gives  it  a  couple  of  turns 
and  it  turns  right  back  at  him.  He  grabs 
it  again  and  it  was  short  with  a  left  hook 
to  the  jaw,  and  then  the  Kid  shakes  his  head 
and  takes  off  one  side  of  the  hood.  He 
sticks  his  hand  down  inside  and  pulls  out  a 
little  brown  thing  that  looks  like  a  cup  with 
a  cover  on  it. 

"No  wonder  she  stopped!"  he  says, 
holdin'  it  up.  "Look  what  I  just  found  in 
here." 

I  give  it  the  once  over. 

"What  d'ye  think  of  that,  eh?"  he  says. 
"It's  a  wonder  she  run  at  all!  I'll  bet  that 
boob  mechanic  left  that  in  there  when  he 
started  us  off  at  the  garage."  He  throws 
the  thing  in  a  ditch  and  puts  the  hood  on. 
"Now,"  he  says,  "we're  off  for  Film  City!" 

He  grabs  hold  of  the  crank  and  gives  it 
about  eleven  whirls,  but  there  ain't  a  thing 


82  KID  SCANLAN 

doin'  and  while  we're  stuck  there  like  that, 
along  comes  a  guy  in  another  car. 

"Can  I  help  you  fellows  out?"  he  hollers. 

"Yes!"  I  yells  back.  "Have  you  got  a 
rope?" 

He  comes  over  and  looks  at  the  thing. 

"What  seems  to  be  the  trouble?"  he  asks 
the  Kid. 

"Nothin'  in  particular,"  the  Kid  tells 
him.  "She's  a  great  little  car  only  we  can't 
get  her  goin'." 

"Have  you  got  gas?"  asks  the  stranger. 

"Plenty!"  says  the  Kid.  "D'ye  think  I 
would  try  to  run  a  car  without  gasoline?" 

"I  don't  know,"  says  the  other  guy.  "I 
never  seen  you  before!  Is  your  spark  all 
right?" 

"A  number  one!"  pipes  the  Kid. 

"And  she  won't  run?"  he  asks. 

"She  won't  run!"  we  both  says  together. 

"Hmph!"  he  snorts,  scratchin'  his  head. 
He  opens  the  hood  and  fusses  around  on 
both  sides  for  a  minute  and  then  he  rubs  the 


EAST  LYNCH  83 

•side  of  his  nose  with  his  finger.  He  looks 
like  he  was  up  against  a  tough  proposition. 

"How  far  have  you  run  this  car?"  he  asks 
the  Kid  finally. 

"All  the  way  from  Frisco,"  answers  the 
•Kid. 

"Like  this?"  he  says,  pointin'  to  the  mo- 
tor. 

"No!"  I  cuts  in.     "It  was  movin'." 

"Why  you  couldn't  have  gone  three  feet 
with  this  car!"  he  busts  out  suddenly.  "I 
jiever  seen  nothin'  like  this  before  in  my 
life!" 

"Why  don't  you  go  out  at  nights,  then?" 
growls  the  Kid,  gettin'  sore.  "Stop 
knockin'  and  tell  us  what's  the  matter  with 
it." 

"There  ain't  nothin'  the  matter  with  it," 
says  the  other  guy  with  an  odd  little  grin. 
"Not  a  thing — only  it  ain't  got  no  carbure- 
tor in  it,  that's  all!" 

If  he  figured  on  creatin'  a  sensation  on 
that  remark — and  from  the  way  he  said  it, 


84  KID  SCANLAN 

he  did — he  lost  the  bet.  The  Kid  just  gives 
him  the  baby  stare  and  shrugs  his  shoulders 
like  it's  past  him. 

"No  which?"  he  says. 

"Carburetor!"  explains  the  native.  "The 
little  cup  where  your  gasoline  mixes  with 
the  air  to  start  the  motor." 

The  Kid  claps  his  hands  together  and 
yells, 

"That  little  crook  back  in  Frisco  must 
have  held  out  on  me!" 

But  I  had  been  doin'  some  thinkin'  and 
I  looks  the  Kid  in  the  eye, 

"What  does  this  carburetor  thing  look 
like?"  I  asks  the  other  guy. 

He  describes  it  to  me,  and  when  he  got 
all  through  I  gives  the  Kid  another  meanin' 
look  and  walks  over  to  the  ditch.  After 
pawin'  around  in  the  mud  for  a  while  I 
found  the  little  cup  the  Kid  had  throwed 
away. 

"Is  this  it?"  I  asks  the  native. 


EAST  LYNCH  85 

*n 

"It  is,"  he  says.  "What  was  it  doin'  over 
there?" 

"It  must  have  fell  off!"  answers  the  Kid 
quickly,  kickin'  at  me  to  keep  quiet. 

iWell,  this  guy  finally  fixes  us  up  and 
about  an  hour  later  we  hit  the  little  road 
that  leads  into  Film  City,  without  havin' 
no  further  mishaps  except  the  noise  from 
that  motor.  About  half  a  mile  from  the 
gates  I  seen  a  familiar  lookin'  guy  standin' 
in  the  middle  of  the  road  and  wavin'  his 
hands  at  us. 

"Slow  up!"  I  says  to  the  Kid.  "Here's 
Genaro!" 

The  Kid  reaches  down  to  the  side  of  his 
seat  and  yanks  a  handle  that  was  stickin'  up. 
It  come  right  off  in  his  hand  and  we  kept 
right  on  goin'. 

"That's  funny!"  says  the  Kid,  holdin'  up 
the  handle  and  lookin'  at  it  like  it's  the  first 
one  he  ever  seen.  "We  should  have  stopped 
right  away — that's  the  emergency  brake!" 


86  KID  SCANLAN 

He  stamps  on  the  floor  with  his  foot  a  cou- 
ple of  times  and  shuts  off  the  gas.  We 
drift  right  on,  and,  if  Genaro  had  had  rheu- 
matism, he  would  have  been  killed  outright. 
As  it  was,  he  jumped  aside  just  in  time  and 
the  car  comes  to  a  stop  of  its  own  free  will 
about  twenty  feet  past  him  down  the  road. 

"What's  a  mat?"  yells  Genaro,  rushin' 
up  to  us.  "Why  you  no  stoppa  the  car 
when  you  see  me?" 

"Why  don't  they  stop  prohibition?"  I  hol- 
lers back  at  him.  "We  must  have  lost  the 
stopper  off  this  one,  we — " 

But  he  runs  around  the  other  side  to 
where  the  Kid  is  sittin',  examinin'  all  them 
handles  and  buttons. 

"SapristU"  he  yells  at  the  Kid.  "Where 
you  go,  Meester  Kid  Scanlan?  Everybody 
she's  a  look  for  you — Meester  Potts  he'sa 
want  you  right  away!  We  starta  firsta  reel 
of  your  picture  to-day.  Everybody  she'sa 
got  to  wait  for  youl" 

"Keep  your  shirt  on  I"  growls  the  Kid. 


EAST  LYNCH  87 

told  me  this  mornin'  I  had  lots  of 
time,  didn't  you?" 

Genaro  grabs  hold  of  a  tree  and  does  a 
little  dance. 

"Aha!"  he  remarks  to  the  sky.  "He'sa 
make  me  crazee!  What  you  care  what  I 
tole  you  this  a  morning?  Joosta  now  I 
want  you  queek!  You  maka  mucha  talk 
with  me  while  Meester  Potts  and  every- 
body she'sa  wait  for  you!" 

"Well,"  says  the  Kid.  "Get  in  here  and 
we'll  go  there  right  away." 

Genaro  climbs  in  the  back  of  the  car. 

"Hurry  up!"  he  says,  holdin'  his  ears. 
"Anything  so  she'a  stop  that  terrible  noise. 
Hurry  up!" 

"I'll  do  that  little  thing!"  pipes  the  Kid 
— and  we  was  off. 

I  climbed  over  the  seat  and  in  the  back 
with  Genaro  so's  he  wouldn't  feel  lonesome, 
and,  so's  if  the  Kid  hit  anything,  I'd  have 
a  little  more  percentage  in  my  favor.  Gen- 
aro seems  to  be  sore  about  somethin',  and 


88  KID  SCANLAN 

to  make  conversation  I  ask  him  what's  the 
matter. 

"Everything  she's  the  matter!"  he  tells 
me,  while  the  Kid  keeps  his  foot  on  the  gas 
and  we  bump  and  clatter  along  the  road. 
"Everything  she's  the  matter!  I  work  all 
morning  on  lasta  reel  of  'The  Escapes  of 
Eva.'  Got  two  hundred  extra  people  stand 
around  do  nothing.  De  Vronde,  the  bigga 
bunk,  he's  a  play  lead  with  Miss  Vincent." 
He  stops  and  kisses  his  hand  at  a  tree  we 
was  passin'.  "Ah!"  he  goes  on.  "She's-a 
fina  girl!  Some  time  maybe  I  ask  her — 
pardone,  I  talka  too  fast!  Lasta  reel  De 
Vronde  he'sa  get  what  you  call  lynched. 
They  putta  rope  around  he'sa  neck  and  he's 
a  stand  under  bigga  tree.  Joosta  as  they 
pulla  rope  to  keel  him,  Miss  Vincent,"  he 
throws  another  kiss  at  a  tree.  "Ah!  sucha 
fina  girl!"  he  whispers  at  me  rollin'  his  eyes. 
"Sometime  I — pardone,  everytime  I  forget! 
Miss  Vincent  she'sa  come  along  on  horse 
and  sava  he'sa  life — you  see?" 


EAST  LYNCH  89 

"I  got  youl"  I  tells  him.  "Then  what 
happens?" 

"SapristiP  he  says.  "That's  all!  What 
you  want  for  five  reels?  But  thisa  morn- 
ing, Meester  Potts  he'sa  come  up  and 
watch.  He'sa  president  of  company  and 
knows  much  about  money,  but  acting — bah! 
he'sa  know  nothing!  Gotta  three  year  old 
boy  he'sa  know  more!  He'sa  standa  there 
and  smile  and  rub  he'sa  hands  together  lika 
barber  while  we  taka  lasta  reel.  Every- 
thing she'sa  fine  till  we  come  to  place 
where  De  Vronde  he'sa  get  lynch  and  Miss 
Vincent — ah ! — she'sa  come  up  on  horse  and 
sava  him.  Then  Meester  Potts  he'sa  rush 
over  and  stoppa  the  cameras.  'No!'  he'sa 
yell.  'No,  by  Heaven,  I  won't  stand  for 
that!  That's  a  rotten !  You  got  to  get  dif- 
ference ending  froma  that!' ' 

"What  was  the  matter?"  I  asks  him. 
"Didn't  he  want  De  Vronde  saved?" 

His  shoulders  does  one  of  them  muscle 
dances. 


90  KID  SCANLAN 

"Ask  me!"  he  says.  "I  couldn't  tella 
you!  He'sa  know  nothing  about  art  I 
Joosta  money — that's  all.  He'sa  tella  me 
girl  saving  leading  man  from  lynch  lika 
that  is  old  as  he'sa  fren'  Methuselah! 
He'sa  want  something  new  for  finish  that 
picture — bran'  new,  he'sa  holler  or  no  pic- 
ture! All  morning  I  worka,  worka,  worka, 
he'sa  maka  faces  at  everything  I  do  I" 

"Well!"  I  says.     "If  you— " 

I  happened  to  look  up  just  then  and  I 
seen  the  well  known  gates  of  Film  City 
about  a  hundred  yards  away,  and  if  we  was 
makin'  a  mile  an  hour,  we  was  makin'  fifty. 
I  leaned  over  and  tapped  the  Kid  on  the 
shoulder. 

"Don't  you  think  you  had  better  slow  up 
a  trifle?"  I  asks  him. 

"I  don't  think  nothin'  about  it!"  he 
throws  over  his  shoulder.  "I  know 
it!  I  been  tryin'  to  stop  this  thing  for  the 
last  fifteen  minutes  and  there's  nothin* 
doin'I" 


EAST  LYNCH  91 

"Throw  her  in  reverse!"  I  screams,  as 
them  great  big  iron  gates  looms  up  over  the 
front  mud  guards. 

"I  can't!"  he  shouts.  "The  darned 
thing's  stuck  in  high  and  I  can't  budge  it!" 

One  of  them  gates  was  open  and  the  Kid 
steers  for  it,  while  I  closed  my  eyes  and  give 
myself  over  to  prayer.  We  shot  through 
leavin'  one  lamp,  both  mudguards  and  a 
runnin'  board  behind. 

"Hey!"  yells  Genaro.  "What's  a  mat? 
Thisa  too  fasta  for  me!  Stoppa  the  car  be- 
fore something  she'sa  happen!" 

"Somethin'  she'sa  gonna  happen  right 
now!"  I  says.  "Be  seated!" 

The  Kid  swings  around  a  corner  and  ev- 
erybody in  Film  City  is  either  lookin',  run- 
nin' or  yellin'  after  us.  I  often  wondered 
what  a  wide  berth  meant,  and  I  found  out 
that  afternoon.  That's  what  everybody  in 
the  place  give  us  when  we  come  through 
there  hittin'  on  six  as  I.  Markowitz  would 
remark.  A  guy  made  up  like  a  Indian 


92  KID  SCANLAN 

chief  jumped  behind  a  tree  and  we  only 
missed  him  by  dumb  luck. 

"Hey!"  he  yells  after  us.  "Are  you  fel- 
lows crazy?  Look  out  for  the  Moorish 
Castle!" 

I  yelled  back  that  we  wouldn't  miss 
nothin'  of  interest,  if  we  could  help  it  and 
the  gas  held  out,  and  just  then  I  got  a  flash 
at  the  Moorish  Castle.  It  had  been  built 
the  day  before  for  a  big  five  reel  thriller 
that  Genaro  was  gonna  produce  and  I  un- 
derstand he  was  very  partial  to  it.  As  soon 
as  he  sees  it  he  jumps  up  in  the  back  of  the 
car  and  slaps  the  Kid  on  the  shoulders. 

"Hey,  crazee  man!"  he  hollers.  "Stoppa 
the  car,  I,  Genaro,  command  it!  Don't 
toucha  my  castle!"  his  voice  goes  off  in  a 
shriek.  "SapristU—l—" 

That  was  all  he  said  just  then,  because  we 
went  through  the  Moorish  Castle  like  a 
cyclone  through  Kansas,  and  as  we  come 
out  on  the  other  side  the  whole  thing  tum- 
bled down,  bringin'  with  it  a  couple  of  Chi- 


EAST  LYNCH  93 

nese  pagodas  that  had  just  come  from  the 
paint  shop.  All  we  lost  was  half  of  the 
radiator  and  the  windshield.  The  Kid 
pulls  a  kind  of  a  sick  grin  and  licks  his  lips. 

"Some  car,  eh?"  he  says,  takin'  a  fresh 
grip  on  the  steerin'  wheel. 

I  missed  Genaro  and  lookin'  back 
through  the  dust  I  seen  him  draped  over  a 
fence  with  his  head  touchin'  the  ground  and 
his  feet  up  in  the  air.  A  lot  of  daredevils 
was  runnin'  towards  us  and  yellin'  murder. 

"Where's  Genaro?"  asks  the  Kid,  as  we 
miss  a  tree  by  a  half  inch. 

I  shivered  and  told  him. 

"The  big  quitter !"  snarls  the  Kid.  "Left 
us  flat  the  minute  somethin'  happened,  eh? 
I  always  knew  that  guy  was  yellahl" 

We  shot  across  the  African  Desert  and 
comin'  around  another  turn  we  bust  right 
into  "The  Escapes  of  Eva."  There's  about 
two  hundred  supers  dressed  like  cowboys 
and  Duke,  Genaro's  assistant,  is  up  on  a  lit- 
tle platform  with  the  Big  Boss  Potts,  di- 


94  KID  SCANLAN 

rectin'  the  thing.  De  Vronde  is  under  a 
tree  with  a  rope  around  his  neck  and  an- 
other one  that  don't  show  in  the  picture  un- 
der his  arms  so's  he  can  be  pulled  up  and 
it  will  look  like  he  was  bein'  lynched.  A 
little  ways  up  the  road  is  Miss  Vincent  on 
a  horse,  ready  to  make  her  dash  to  save  De 
Vronde's  life. 

As  all  this  comes  into  view,  the  Kid 
swings  around  on  me  and  shoves  somethin' 
big  and  round  in  my  face. 

"Now!"  he  hollers.  "We're  up  against 
it  for  real!  The  steerin'  wheel  come  off!" 

I  .pushed  open  the  door  on  the  side  and 
stood  on  the  runnin'  board. 

"Let  me  know  how  you  make  out!"  I 
yells.  "I  got  enough!" 

With  that  I  jumps. 

Just  as  I  hit  the  ground,  I  hear  Duke 
yellin'  through  a  megaphone. 

"C'mon,  now — gimme  action!  Hey! 
Get  two  of  those  cameras  at  an  angle. 
When  I  say  'Shoot!'  you,  Nelson,  and 


EAST  LYNCH  95 

Hardy  pull  that  rope  so  De  Vronde  swings 
about  five  feet  clear  of  the  ground !  Be  sure 
the  rope  is  under  his  arms,  too!  Hey,  you 
extra  people — a  little  ginger  there!  This 
is  a  lynching  not  a  spelling  bee!  Dance 
around  some — yell!  That's  it.  Now,  all 
ready?"  He  blows  the  whistle.  "Shoot!" 
he  yells,  "and  gimme  all  you  got!" 

Well,  the  Kid  did  what  he  could — he 
blowed  the  little  trick  horn  on  the  side  of 
the  car  about  a  second  before  he  shot  into 
the  mob.  Them  bloodthirsty  outlaws  just 
melted  away  before  him,  and  them  that  wai 
slow-witted  was  picked  up  and  tossed  to  one 
side  before  they  knowed  what  hit  'em. 
They's  a  big  stone  wall  at  the  other  side 
of  the  tree  and  that's  where  the  Kid  was 
headed  for.  Just  as  he  sails  under  De 
Vronde,  who's  hangin'  from  the  rope  over 
his  head,  the  Kid  sees  the  wall,  grabs  De 
Vronde  by  the  legs  and  hangs  there,  lettin' 
that  crazy,  six  cylinder  A.  G.  F.  proceed 
without  him.  De  Vronde  and  the  Kid 


96  KID  SCANLAN 

crashes  to  the  ground  and  the  car  dashed  its 
brains  out  against  the  wall. 

While  great  excitement  is  bein'  had  by  all, 
Duke  jumps  from  the  platform  to  tell  the 
camera  men  to  cease  firm'  and  a  handful  of 
actors  runs  over  to  jimmy  the  Kid  and  De 
Vronde  apart.  I  thought  this  Duke  guy 
was  gonna  explode,  on  the  level  it  was  two 
minutes  before  he  could  speak. 

"What  d'ye  mean,  you  ivory-headed 
simp?"  he  screams  at  the  Kid,  finally. 
"What  d'ye  mean  by  that?  You've  ruined 
a  hundred  feet  of  film,  you — : 

I  hear  somebody  puffin'  along  beside  me 
as  I  come  runnin'  up  and  I  see  it's  Potts. 
He's  red  in  the  face  and  mumblin'  some- 
thin'  to  himself  as  he  waddles  along.  I  felt 
real  sorry  for  the  Kid — car  and  job,  both 
gone!  Potts  rushes  up  and  grabs  Duke  by 
the  shoulder. 

"There!"  he  yells,  pointin7  to  the  Kid. 
"There  stands  a  man  that  knows  more  about 
the  picture  game  than  the  whole  infernal 


EAST  LYNCH  97, 

lot  of  you !  That's  the  kind  of  a  finish  I've 
been  trying  to  get  for  this  picture  all  morn- 
ing!" 


CHAPTER  III 

PLEASURE  ISLAND 

SPEAKIN'  of  boobs,  as  people  will,  did 
you  ever  figure  what  would  happen  if 
the  production  of  'em  would  suddenly 
cease?  Heh?  Where  would  this  or  any 
other  country  be,  if  all  the  voters  was  wise 
guys  and  the  suckers  was  all  dead? 

In  the  first  place,  there  wouldn't  have 
been  no  ex-Land  of  the  Rave  and  Home  of 
the  Spree,  if  Queen  Isabella  hadn't  been 
boob  enough  to  fall  for  Columbus's  stuff, 
about  would  she  stake  him  and  his  gang  of 
rough  and  readys  to  a  couple  of  ferryboats 
and  they'd  go  out  and  bring  back  Chicago. 
Even  old  Chris  himself  was  looked  on  as 
Kid  Stupid,  because  he  claimed  the  earth 
was  round.  The  gang  he  trailed  with  had 
it  figured  as  bein'  square  like  their  heads. 

The  guy  that  invented  the  airship  was 
98 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  99 

doped  out  as  a  boob  until  the  thing  begin 
to  fly,  the  bird  that  turned  out  the  first 
steamboat  was  called  a  potterin'  old  simp 
and  let  him  alone  and  he'd  kill  himself— 
and  that's  the  way  it  goes. 

The  sucker  is  the  boy  that  keeps  the  wise 
guys  alive.  He'll  try  anything  once,  and  it 
don't  make  no  difference  to  him  whether  it's 
three-card  monte  or  a  new  kind  of  submar- 
ine. He's  the  guy  that  built  all  the  fancy 
bridges,  the  big  buildin's,  fought  and  won 
the  wars  that  the  wise  guys  started,  and  fixed 
things  generally  so  that  to-day  you  can  push 
a  little  trick  electric  button  and  get  any- 
thing from  a  piece  of  pie  to  a  divorce. 
He's  the  simp  that  falls  for  the  new  minin* 
company  stock,  grins  when  the  wise  guys 
explain  to  him  just  how  many  kinds  of  a 
sucker  he  is,  and  then  clips  coupons  while 
they're  gettin'  up  early  to  read  the  want 
ads.  He's  the  baby  that's  done  everything 
that  couldn't  be  did. 

That's  the  boob! 


ioo  KID  SCANLAN 

The  boob  is  the  guy  that  takes  all  the 
chances  and  makes  it  possible  for  old  Kid 
World  to  keep  goin'  forward  instead  of 
standin'  still.  Any  burg  that's  got  a  cou- 
ple of  sure  enough  eighteen-carat  boobs  in 
it,  known  to  the  trade  as  suckers,  has  got  a 
chance. 

So  the  next  time  somebody  calls  you  a 
big  boob,  don't  get  sore — thank  him.  He's 
boostin'  you! 

Gimme  ten  boobs  in  back  of  me  and  I'll 
take  a  town,  because  they'll  take  a  chance. 
Gimme  a  hundred  wise  guys  and  the 
town'll  take  us,  because  them  birds  will 
have  to  stop  and  figure  what's  the  use  of 
startin'  somethin'. 

Me  for  the  boobs! 

'Kid  Scanlan  was  a  boob.  He  was  a  great 
battler,  a  regular  fellow  and  all  like  that,  but 
he  was  a  boob  just  the  same.  He  started 
fightin'  because  he  was  simp  enough  to  take 
a  chance  of  havin'  his  features  altered,  and 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  101 

he  won  the  title  through  bein'  stupid  enough 
to  mix  it  with  the  welterweight  champion. 
I  was  the  wise  guy  of  the  party,  always 
playin'  it  safe  and  seein'  what  made  it  go, 
before  I'd  take  a  chance.  But  the  Kid  got  a 
whole  lot  further  than  I  ever  will.  He 
made  a  name  for  himself  in  the  ring  and 
another  in  the  movies  and  I  ain't  champion 
of  nothin' — I'm  just  with  Scanlan,  that's  all. 

I'm  gettin'  offers  from  promoters  here  and 
there  to  have  him  start  against  some  set  up 
for  money  that  was  sinful  to  refuse,  but 
there's  nothin'  doin'.  The  Kid  has  took  to 
bein'  an  actor  like  they  did  to  gunpowder  in 
Europe,  and  not  only  he  won't  fight,  I  can't 
even  get  him  mad! 

"I'm  off  that  roughneck  stuff  1"  he  tells 
me.  "Nobody  ever  got  nothin'  by  fightin'. 
Look  what  it  did  to  Willard!  Besides,"  he 
goes  on,  "what  would  John  Drew  and  them 
guys  think  of  me,  if  it  should  leak  out  that 
I  had  give  in  to  box  fightin'  again? 


102  KID  SCANLAN 

they'd  be  off  me  for  life!  Nope,  let  'em 
battle  in  Russia,  I'm  through!" 

Fine  for  a  champion,  eh? 

Now  here's  a  guy  that  went  to  the  top  in 
the  one  game  where  you  can't  luck  your  way 
over.  Because  he  was  a  fightin'  fool,  the 
'Kid  had  right-crossed  his  way  to  the  title 
and  now  that  he  was  up  there,  the  big  stiff 
wouldn't  look  at  a  glove!  No!  he  was 
a  actor  now!  I'd  tell  him  that  Kid 
Whosthis  had  flattened  Battlin'  McGluke 
the  night  before  and  we  could  get  ten  thou- 
sand to  go  six  rounds  with  the  winner.  He'd 
flick  the  ash  off  a  gold-tipped  cigarette  and 
say, 

"Teh?"  Then  he'd  grab  me  by  the 
shoulder  and  pour  this  in  my  ear.  "Did 
you  get  me  in  that  Shakespeare  picture 
last  week?  I  hear  the  guy  that  writes  up 
shows  for  the  Peoria  Gazette  claims  Mans- 
field had  nothin'  on  me!" 

A  few  months  before  he  would  have  said 
somethin'  like  this, 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  103 

"All  right!  Wire  the  club  we'll  fight 
him,  and  if  I  don't  bounce  that  tramp  in 
two  rounds,  I'll  give  my  end  to  them 
starvin'  Armenians!" 

Now  I  didn't  kick  when  the  Kid  falls  for 
Miss  Vincent,  because  I  had  seen  Miss  Vin- 
cent, and  the  Kid  was  only  human.  I  didn't 
say  nothin'  when  he  staked  himself  to  that 
second-hand  auto  that  like  to  wrecked  Cali- 
fornia, but  when  he  pulls  this  actor  thing  on 
me  and  says  pugilism,  pugilism,  mind  you, 
ought  to  be  discouraged — I  figured  it  was 
about  time  for  yours  in  the  faith  to  step  in. 

The  Kid  had  two  ambitions  in  life,  both 
of  which  he  picked  up  at  Film  City.  One 
was  to  be  the  greatest  movie  hero  that  ever 
flattened  a  villain,  and  the  other  was  to  ease 
himself  into  the  Golden  West  Club. 
*  The  Golden  West  Club  was  over  in 
Frisco,  and  as  far  as  the  average  guy  was 
concerned  it  could  have  been  in  Iceland. 
It  was  about  as  easy  to  get  into  that  joint  as 
it  is  to  get  into  Heaven,  and  it  was  also  the 


104  KID  SCANLAN 

only  other  place  where  you  couldn't  buy 
your  way  in.  Your  name  had  to  be  For- 
tescue-Smith  or  Van  Whosthis,  and  you  had 
to  look  it.  You  had  to  be  partial  to  tea, 
wrist  watches,  dancin',  opera,  tennis  and 
the  like,  and  to  top  it  all  off  you  had  to  be 
a  distant  relative  to  a  hick  called  William 
the  Conqueror,  who  I  hear  was  light  heavy- 
weight champ  in  days  of  old.  If  you 
checked  up  all  right  on  them  little  details, 
they  took  a  vote  on  you.  If  you  was  lucky, 
you  got  a  letter  in  a  few  weeks  later  sayin' 
your  application  was  bein'  considered  and 
you  might  get  in,  but  not  to  bank  on  it,  be- 
cause they  was  havin'  trouble  connectin'  up 
your  grandfather  with  the  rest  of  the  family 
tree,  it  bein'  said  around  that  he  made  his 
money  through  work. 

That  was  the  place  Kid  Scanlan  wanted 
to  bust  into! 

One  night  he  gets  all  dressed  up  like  a 
horse  in  one  of  them  soup  and  fish  layouts, 
and  he  hires  a  guy  to  drive  him  over  to  the 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  105 

Golden  West  Club  in  that  second-hand  A. 
G.  F.  he  had.  I  will  say  the  Kid  went  into 
the  thing  in  a  big  way,  payin'  seventy-five 
bucks  for  a  dress  suit  and  ten  more  for  the 
whitest  shirt  I  ever  seen  in  my  life.  He 
sends  in  eight  berries  for  a  hack-driver's 
hat  and  seven  for  a  pair  of  tan  shoes. 
Then  he  climbs  into  his  bus  and  tells  the 
driver,  "Let's  go!"  Before  he  pulled  out, 
he  told  me  they  was  so  many  guys  be- 
longed to  the  thing  that  he  figured  he  could 
mix  around  for  a  few  minutes  without  any- 
body gettin'  wise  that  he  wasn't  a  regular 
member,  if  he  could  only  breeze  past  the 
jobbie  on  the  door. 

And  outside  of  the  shoes,  which  I  thought 
was  a  trifle  noisy,  the  Kid  sized  up  like  any 
of  the  real  club  members  I  had  seen,  except 
his  chest  wasn't  so  narrow  and  he  had  an 
intelligent  look. 

Well,  he  blowed  in  about  twelve  o'clock 
and  come  up  to  the  rooms  we  had  at  the  ho- 
tel in  Film  City.  He  stands  in  the  middle 


io6  KID  SCANLAN 

of  the  bedroom,  takes  off  this  trick  silk 
hat,  and,  puttin'  everything  he  had  on  the 
throw,  he  pitched  it  into  the  bathtub.  He 
slammed  that  open-faced  coat  in  a  corner 
and  in  a  minute  it  was  followed  by  them 
full-dress  pants.  The  gleamin'  white  shirt 
skidded  under  the  bed,  neck  and  neck  with 
the  shoes.  I  didn't  say  a  word  while  he  was 
abusin'  them  clothes,  but  I  was  so  happy  I 
felt  like  cheerin',  because  they  was  some- 
thin'  in  the  Kid's  face  I  hadn't  seen  there 
since  we  hit  the  movies.  The  last  time  I 
had  caught  him  lookin'  like  that  was  when 
One-Punch  Ross  had  dropped  him  with  a 
left  hook,  just  before  the  Kid  won  the  title. 
When  the  Kid  got  to  his  feet  that  there  look 
was  on  his  face  and  two  seconds  later  he 
was  welterweight  champion  of  the  world 
and  points  adjacent. 

He  inserts  himself  into  his  pyjamas  and 
then  he  swings  around  on  me. 

"How  much  did  they  offer  us  at  the  Gar- 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  107 

den  for  ten  rounds  with  Battlin'  Edwards ?n 
he  wants  to  know. 

I  liked  to  fell  out  of  the  bed! 

"Eight  thousand,  with  a  privilege  of 
thirty  per  cent  of  the  gross,"  I  says,  gettin* 
off  of  the  hay.  "Will  I  wire  'em?" 

"Yep!"  he  snaps  out.  "Tell  'em  I'll 
fight  Edwards  two  weeks  after  I  get 
through  here!" 

"And  when  will  that  be,  might  I  ask?"  I 
says,  ringin'  for  a  messenger  and  tryin'  to 
keep  from  dancin'  a  jig. 

"As  soon  as  them  simps  finish  that  pic- 
ture, 'How  Kid  Scanlan  Won  the  Title,'  " 
he  tells  me.  "Genaro  says  he'll  start  it  to- 
morrow, and  as  soon  as  it's  through,  so  am  I 
-here!" 

I  didn't  get  the  answer  to  all  this  until 
the  Kid  crawls  into  the  hay  half  a  hour 
later,  scowlin'  and  mutterin'  to  himself.  I 
took  a  good  look  at  him  and  then  I  says, 

"Speakin'  of  clubs  and  stuff  like  that, 


io8  KID  SCANLAN 

how  did  you  make  out  at  that  Golden  West 
joint  to-night?" 

He  sits  right  up  in  the  bed. 

"Are  you  try  in'  to  kid  somebody?"  he 
snarls. 

"I  asked  you  a  civil  question,  you  big 
stiff!"  I  comes  back,  "and  don't  be  comin' 
around  here  and  slippin'  me  that  rough 
stuff!  If  you  can  be  a  gentleman  at  your 
clubs  and  joints  like  that,  you  want  to  be 
one  here!  D'ye  get  that?" 

He  looks  at  me  for  -a  minute  and  seein' 
I'm  serious,  he  growls, 

"I  thought  you  had  heard  about  it!" 
Then  he  props  himself  up  with  the  pillows 
and  begins,  "I  went  over  there  to-night  and 
them  boobs  was  havin'  a  racket  of  some 
kind,  I  guess,  because  all  the  automobiles  in 
the  West  was  lined  up  outside  the  doors  of 
the  club.  I  tried  to  horn  in  the  line  with 
that  boat  of  mine  and  the  biggest  nigger  in 
the  world,  dressed  up  like  a  band  leader, 
comes  over  and  wants  to  know  if  I'm  a 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  109 

guest.  I  told  him  no,  that  I  was  a  movie 
actor  and  to  step  one  side  or  he'd  break  the 
headlights  when  I  hit  him.  He  claims  I 
can't  get  in  the  line  without  I  got  a  ticket 
showin'  I'm  a  guest.  I  got  tired  of  his 
chatter,  so  I  dropped  him  with  a  short  left 
swing  and  we  keep  on  goin'  till  we  wind  up 
at  the  front  door.  This  stupid  simp  I  had 
drivin'  my  bus  is  lookin'  at  the  swell  dames 
goin'  in,  instead  of  at  the  emergency  brake, 
and  he  forgets  to  stop  the  thing  till  we 
have  took  off  the  rear  end  of  a  car  in  front 
of  us  and  busted  my  front  mudguard 
again. 

"While  the  chiffure  of  the  wreck  is 
moanin'  to  my  guy  about  it,  I  ducked  out 
the  side  and  blowed  around  to  the  entrance. 
I  figured  they  was  a  password  of  some 
kind,  so  I  says  to  the  big  hick  at  the  gate, 
'Ephus  Doffus  Loffus,'  and  pushes  past 
him.  I  guess  he  was  surprised  at  me  bein' 
a  stranger  and  knowin'  the  ropes  at  that,  be- 
cause I  seen  him  lookin'  after  me  when  I 


no  KID  SCANLAN 

beat  it  up  the  first  stairway  to  the  second 
floor.  I  got  a  flash  at  myself  in  a  mirror 
as  I  breeze  past,  and,  if  I  do  say  it  myself, 
I  was  there  forty  ways.  I  was  simply  a 
knockout  in  that  evenin'  dress  thing!  A 
swell-lookin'  guy  pipes  me  at  the  top  of  the 
stairs  and,  after  givin'  me  the  once  over,  he 
taps  me  on  the  arm. 

"  'You  may  bring  me  a  glawss  of  Appol- 
linaris,  my  man,'  he  says,  'and  for  heaven 
sake  remove  those  yellow  shoes!' 

"With  that  he  walks  away  and  another 
guy  comes  up  and  whistles  at  me.  When  I 
turn  around,  he's  givin'  me  the  up  and  down 
through  a  glass  thing  he's  got  hung  over 
one  eye. 

"  'Bring  up  a  box  of  perfectos  at  once!' 
he  pipes.  'Come!  Look  alive  now!' 

"Then  I  got  it!  /  thought  I  was 
knockin'  'em  dead  and  these  guys  thought  I 
was  a  waiter!  Well,  I  thinks,  I'll  show 
them  boobs  somethin'  before  I  take  the  air 
— I  can  pull  that  stuff  myself!  With  that 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  in 

I  breezes  into  the  next  room  and  there's  a 
hick  sittin'  at  a  table,  toyin'  with  a  book. 
He  was  as  near  nothin'  as  anything  I  ever 
seen,  on  the  level!  He's  got  a  swell  dress 
suit  on,  but  it  didn't  fit  him  no  better  than 
mine  did  me  and  it  couldn't  have  cost  no 
more  or  he  would  have  killed  the  tailor. 
Outside  of  the  shoes,  mine  bein'  classier, 
we  was  both  made  up  the  same.  A  guy 
comes  in,  looks  him  over  for  a  minute  and 
then  he  yawns.  'Bored?'  he  says.  The 
simp  that  was  sittin'  down  looks  back  at 
him,  yawns  and  says,  'Frightfully.'  Then 
the  other  guy  bows  at  him  and  goes  out. 
Some  other  hick  wanders  in  and  says,  'Ah, 
Van  Stuyvessant,  bored?'  and  Stupid  says, 
'Frightfully'  and  the  other  guy  blows  out. 
I  seen  that  the  coast  was  clear,  so  I  smoothed 
my  hair,  pulled  down  my  vest  and  throwed 
my  chest  out  like  them  other  guys  did. 
Then  I  breezed  in  and  stopped  before  this 
guy.  He  yawns  and  looks  up  at  me  very 
dignified  like  he  was  sittin'  in  the  Night 


H2  KID  SCANLAN 

Court  and  I  was  up  before  him  for  the  third 
time  in  a  week. 

"  'Hey,  Stupid!'  I  says.  'Get  me  a  gin 
fizz  and  don't  make  it  too  sweet!  And  for 
heaven's  sakes  get  rid  of  that  shirt  1' 

"I  thought  he  was  goin'  to  get  the  apo- 
plexy or  somethin',  because  his  face  is  as 
red  as  a  four-alarm  fire.  Then  he  says, 

"  'Why — what — how  dare  you,  you  inso- 
lent puppy!' 

"I  leaned  on  his  shoulder  and  tapped 
him  on  the  end  of  the  beak  with  my  thumb. 

"  'Lay  off  that  stuff,  Simple,'  I  tells  him. 
'I'm  a  guest  here  and  a  couple  of  hicks  took 
me  for  a  waiter.  I'm  just  gettin'  even, 
that's  all.  If  you  don't  get  me  that  gin 
fizz  like  I  asked  you,  I'll  knock  you  for  a 
goal!' 

"He  gets  as  white  as  my  shirt  and  presses 
a  little  button  on  the  table.  A  big  husky, 
made  up  like  a  Winter  Garden  chorus 
man,  runs  in  and  Stupid  says,  'Eject  this 
ruffian,  Simms!  And  then  you  will  an- 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  113 

swer   to   me   for   allowing   him   to   enter!' 

"Simms  was  game,  but  a  poor  worker,  so 
I  feinted  him  over  in  front  of  his  master 
and  then  I  flattened  him  with  a  left  and 
right  to  the  jaw.  I  took  it  on  the  run  then 
and  got  out  the  back  way!" 

The  Kid  stops  and  heaves  a  sigh. 

"And  then  what?"  I  encourages  him. 

"And  then  nothin'!"  he  says.  "That's 
all !  Except  I'm  off  the  Golden  West  Club, 
the  movies  and  this  part  of  the  country!  I 
got  enough.  Them  guys  over  there  to- 
night gimme  the  tip-off — I  don't  belong, 
that's  all!  I  was  a  sucker  to  ever  stop 
fightin'  to  be  a  actor,  but  I  got  wise  in 
time.  You  go  ahead  and  sign  me  right  up 
with  anybody  but  Dempsey,  and  if  Genaro 
don't  start  my  picture  to-morrow,  I'll  give 
'em  back  their  money  and  you  and  me  will 
leave  the  Golden  West  flat  on  its  back!" 

Sayl  I  was  so  happy  I  couldn't  sleep. 
I  just  turned  over  on  my  side  and  registered 
joy  all  night  long! 


n4  KID  SCANLAN 

The  next  mornin'  we  go  to  Genaro  the 
first  thing,  and  the  Kid  puts  it  up  to  him 
right  off  the  bat.  Either  he  starts  "How 
Kid  Scanlan  Won  the  Title"  or  he  kisses  us 
good-by.  Genaro  raves  and  pulls  his  hair 
for  awhile,  but  they  ain't  no  more  give  to  , 
the  Kid  than  they  is  to  marble  and  finally 
Genaro  says  he'll  start  the  picture  right 
away. 

We  find  out  that  another  director  is  usin* 
the  whole  camp  to  put  on  a  trick  called 
"The  Fall  of  Babylon,"  so  we  got  to  go  over 
to  an  island  in  the  well  known  Pacific 
Ocean  and  take  what  they  call  exteriors 
there.  They  rounded  up  Miss  Vincent,  De 
Vronde,  the  cuckoo  that  wrote  the  thing, 
and  about  a  hundred  other  people  and  load 
us  all  on  a  yacht  belongin'  to  Potts.  We're 
gonna  stay  on  this  trick  island  till  the  pic- 
ture is  finished,  and  we  eat  and  sleep  on  the 
yacht. 

On  the  trip  over,  we  all  go  down  in  what 
Potts  claims  is  the  grand  saloon  and  Van 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  115 

Aylstyne,  the  hick  that  wrote  the  picture, 
reads  it  to  us.  It  starts  off  showin'  the  Kid 
workin'  in  a  pickle  factory  on  the  East  Side 
in  New  York.  They're  only  slippin'  him 
five  berries  a  week  and  out  of  that  he's 
keepin'  his  widowed  mother  and  seven  of 
her  children.  One  day  he  finds  a  news- 
paper and  all  over  the  front  page  is  a  arti- 
cle tellin'  about  all  the  money  the  welter- 
weight champion  is  makin',  so  the  Kid  fig- 
ures the  pickle  game  is  no  place  for  a  young 
feller  with  his  talent,  and  decides  to  become 
welterweight  champ.  First  he  tries  him- 
self out  by  slammin'  the  guy  he's 
workin'  for,  after  catchin'  him  insultin'  the 
stenographer  by  askin'  her  to  take  a  ride  in 
his  runabout,  when  the  buyer  is  already 
takin'  her  out  in  his  limousine.  When  the 
boss  comes  back  to  life,  he  fires  the  Kid  and 
our  hero  goes  out  and  knocks  down  a  few 
odd  brutes  here  and  there  for  gettin'  fresh 
with  innocent  chorus  girls  and  the  like. 
Finally,  he  practically  wrecks  a  swell  gam- 


n6  KID  SCANLAN 

blin'  joint  where  he  has  gone  to  rescue  his 
girl,  which  had  been  lured  there  by  the 
handsome  stranger  from  the  city. 

"Well!"  says  Potts,  when  Van  Aylstyne 
gets  finished.  "How  does  that  strike  you?" 

"What  I  like,"  pipes  Miss  Vincent,  with 
a  funny  little  quirk  of  her  lip  and  a  wink 
at  De  Vronde.  "What  /  like  is  its  daring 
originality!" 

Van  Aylstyne  stiffens  up. 

"Of  course,"  he  says,  kinda  sore,  "if  I'm 
to  be  criticised  by — " 

"Ain't  they  no  villains  or  nothin'  like 
that  in  it?"  butts  in  the  Kid,  frownin'  at 
him. 

"Joosta  one  minoote!"  says  Genaro. 
"Don't  get  excite!  That's  joosta  firsta 
reel!" 

He  waves  his  hand  at  Van  Aylstyne,  and 
this  guy  gives  a  couple  of  glares  all  around 
and  then  turns  over  another  page.  It 
seems  at  this  stage  of  the  game,  a  lot  of  gun- 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  117 

men  get  together  to  stop  the  Kid  from  win- 
nin'  the  title,  so  they  throw  him  off  a  cliff. 
He  gets  up,  dusts  off  his  clothes,  registers 
anger  and  flattens  half  a  dozen  of  'em.  A 
little  bit  later  he  gets  fastened  to  a  railroad 
track  and  the  fast  mail  runs  over  him. 
This  makes  him  peeved,  and  he  gets  up  and 
wallops  a  couple  of  tramps  that's  passin', 
for  luck.  Then  the  villain's  gang  of  rough 
and  readys  grabs  him  again  and  he  is 
throwed  off  a  ship  into  the  ocean.  A  guy 
comes  along  in  a  motor  boat,  and,  after 
shootin'  a  few  times  at  the  Kid  without  ac- 
tually killin'  him,  registers  surprise  and 
runs  over  him.  When  the  Kid  comes  up 
there  ain't  nothin'  to  wallop,  so  he  swims 
six  miles  to  the  island.  The  minute  he 
crawls  on  the  beach  he  faces  the  camera  and 
registers  exhaustion.  Then  a  lot  of  guys 
jump  out  and  stab  him.  He  knocks  'em  all 
cold  and  then  he  goes  on,  fights  the  champ 
and  wins  the  title. 


n8  KID  SCANLAN 

"Is  that  all  there  is  to  it?"  asks  the  Kid, 
when  Van  Aylstyne  stops  for  breath  and  ap- 
plause. 

"Practically  all,"  Van  Aylstyne  tells  him. 
"Of  course  I'll  have  to  go  over  it  and  spice 
it  up  a  little  more — get  more  action  in  it 
here  and  there,  wherever  it  appears  to  drag. 
But  we  can  do  this  as  we  go  along." 

"Yes!"  says  Potts.  "You'll  have  to  do 
that.  I  want  this  picture  to  be  the  thriller 
of  the  year!"  He  scratches  his  chin  for  a 
minute  and  looks  at  Van  Aylstyne.  "You 
better  ginger  it  up  a  bit  at  that!"  he  goes 
on.  "It  sounds  a  little  tame  to  me.  See  if 
you  can't  work  in  a  couple  of  spectacular 
fires,  a  sensational  runaway  with  Mr.  Scan- 
Ian  being  dragged  along  the  ground,  or  you 
might  have  him  do  a  slide  for  life  from  the 
topmast  of  the  yacht  to  one  of  the  trees 
along  the  shore  here." 

"Wait!"  pipes  Genaro.  "I  have  joosta 
the  thing!  While  I  listen,  I  getta  thisa 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  119 

granda  idea!  Meester  Scanlan,  he'sa  can 
be  throw  from  the  airsheep  and — " 

"Lay  off,  lay  off!"  butts  in  the  Kid. 
"They's  enough  action  in  that  thing  right 
now  to  suit  me!  Don't  put  nothin'  else  in 
it.  I'll  be  busier  than  a  one-armed  paper- 
hanger  as  it  is!"  He  turns  to  Van  Ayls- 
tyne.  "Where  d'ye  get  that  stuff?"  he  scowls. 
"Would  you  jump  off  a  cliff,  hey?" 

Van  Aylstyne  throws  out  his  little  chest, 
while  the  rest  of  them  snickers. 

"I  'write  it!"  he  says. 

"Yeh?"  pipes  the  Kid.  "Well,  you'll 
jump  it,  too,  bo,  believe  me!" 

"What's  a  mat?"  hollers  Genaro. 
"What's  a  use  hava  the  fighta  now?  Wait 
till  we  starta  the  picture,  then  everybody 
she'sa  fighta!  Something  she'sa  go  wrong. 
Sapristi!  we  feexa  her  then.  Joosta  holda 
tight  your  horses!" 

He  pats  the  Kid  on  the  shoulder  and  slips 
him  a  cigar. 


120  KID  SCANLAN 

The  rest  of  the  trip  to  the  island  took 
about  two  hours,  durin'  which  time  the  Kid 
and  Miss  Vincent  sat  on  the  top  deck,  and 
she  give  him  his  daily  lesson  in  how  to 
speak  English,  eat  soup  and  a  lot  more  of 
that  high  society  stuff. 

We  finally  got  to  this  island  place  and  by 
three  o'clock  the  next  afternoon  they  was 
half  way  through  with  the  first  reel.  I 
horned  in  on  the  thing  myself,  takin'  off  a 
copper,  for  which  they  gimme  five  bucks 
even. 

That  night  they  was  big  doin's  on  board 
the  yacht.  They  had  music  and  dancin' 
and  what  not  galore.  Van  Aylstyne,  Potts, 
De  Vronde  and  most  of  the  other  help  was 
there  in  the  soup  and  fish  and  the  twenty 
odd  dames  that  was  actin'  in  the  picture  was 
all  dressed  up  to  thrill.  I  never  seen  so 
much  of  this  here  de  collect  stuff  in  my  life. 
I  heard  a  lot  of  talk  around  the  studios  at 
the  camp  about  "exposures,"  and,  well,  I 
seen  what  they  meant  all  right  that  evenin'. 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  121 

It  got  me  so  dizzy,  never  havin'  no  close- 
ups  like  that  before,  that  I  ducked  for  my 
stateroom  about  nine  o'clock  when  the  joy 
was  just  beginnin'  to  be  unconfined  and  I 
hadn't  been  up  there  five  minutes,  when  the 
Kid  comes  up  and  knocks  at  my  door. 

"I'm  goin'  to  hit  the  hay,"  he  tells  me. 
"If  I  gotta  fight  Battlin'  Edwards  in  two 
months,  I'm  gonna  start  readyin'  up  now! 
I  been  puttin'  on  fat  since  I  been  here,  and 
it's  got  to  come  off.  I'll  get  up  at  five  to- 
morrow and  do  a  gallop  around  the  island, 
and  I  just  dug  up  a  couple  of  ex-bartenders 
among  the  extry  people  which  will  gimme 
some  sparrin'  practice  every  mornin'  till 
they  give  out!" 

"Great!"  I  says.  I  was  hardly  able  to  be- 
lieve my  ears.  It  sounded  like  the  old  Kid 
Scanlan  again! 

I  closed  the  door,  and  just  as  he  was 
turnin'  away,  I  heard  the  swish  of  skirts  and 
then  I  got  Miss  Vincent's  voice.  It  was 
low  and  sweet  and  kinda  soothin'  and — 


122  KID  SCANLAN 

well,  she  was  the  kind  of  dame  guys  kill 
each  other  for!  Do  you  get  me? 

"Oh!"  she  kinda  breathes.  "Why  are 
you  up  here  all  alone?" 

I  heard  the  Kid's  deep  breathin' — it  was 
always  that  way  when  she  spoke  to  him,  and 
I  knowed  without  seein'  'em  that  his  nails 
was  engravin'  fancy  work  on  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"Why,"  he  says,  tryin'  to  keep  his  voice 
steady.  "I'm  off  this  tango  thing — and  the 
last  time  I  had  one  of  them  dress  suits  on, 
I  was  mistook  for  a  waiter!" 

Y'know  there  was  a  funny  little  catch  in 
the  Kid's  voice  when  he  pulled  that,  al- 
though he  tried  to  pass  it  off  by  coughin'. 
That  boy  sure  did  want  to  mix  with  the  big 
leaguers,  and,  bein'  Irish,  it  come  hard  to 
him  to  miss  anything  he  wanted.  Usually 
he  got  it! 

I  heard  Miss  Vincent  sneer. 

"Don't  flatter  these  conceit-drugged  trav- 
esties on  the  male  sex  by  caring  about  any- 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  123 

thing  they  say,"  she  tells  him.  "You  have 
so  many  things  they  never  will  have! 
Why,  you're  a  big,  clean,  two-handed  man 
and — "  She  breaks  off  and  gives  a  giggle 
that  I  would  have  took  Verdun  for.  "But 
there!"  she  goes  on.  "I — I — guess  I'm  get- 
ting too  enthusiastic!" 

I  could  almost  feel  her  blush,  and  I 
knowed  how  she  looked  when  she  did  that 
thing,  so  I  says,  "Good-by,  Kid!" 

"That's  all  right!"  pipes  the  Kid.  "It 
wasn't  these  guys  here.  But  I  can't  go 
downstairs  anyhow,  because  I  gotta  start 
trainin'  for  Battlin'  Edwards." 

"Oh,  bother  Battling  Edwards!"  she  says. 
"I  thought  you  promised  me  to  give  up 
prize  righting!" 

This  was  a  new  one  on  me,  and  it  cleared 
up  a  lot  of  things  I  hadn't  been  able  to  fig- 
ure out  before! 

"I  gotta  take  it  back,"  I  hear  the  Ki  * 
sayin'  in  a  kinda  dead  voice.  "I  pulled  ^ 
bone  play  when  I  did  that!  I  can't  give  up 


124  KID  SCANLAN 

fightin'  no  more  than  you  can  give  up  the 
movies!  The  only  thing  I  got  is  a  wallop, 
and  that  won't  get  me  nowhere  in  the 
movies  or  society,  but  it  got  me  the  title  in 
the  ring.  I  guess  I'll  stick  to  my  own 
game!" 

"Oh,  come!"  she  tells  him,  kinda  impa- 
tient. "You  have  the  blues!  Shake  'em 
off — I  don't  like  you  when  you  scowl  like 
that.  Come  on  down  and  have  a  dance 
with  me.  You'll  feel  better." 

"You  said  somethin'!"  answers  the  Kid. 
"But  I  can't — on  the  level.  I  gotta  train 
for  this  guy,  or  he's  liable  to  bounce  me, 
and,  if  I  lose  this  quarrel,  I'm  through  1 
Y'see,  this  ain't  no  movie,  this  is  gonna  be 
the  real  thing!  If  this  guy  flattens  me,  he'll 
be  the  champion  and  you  know  that  bird  is 
gonna  be  in  there  tryin'  till  the  last  bell !" 

I  peeked  through  them  little  wooden 
cheaters  on  the  window  and  I  seen  her 
kinda  stiffen  up  and  register  surprise. 

"I  am  not  accustomed  to  coaxing  people 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  1251 

to  dance  with  me,  Mr.  Scanlan,"  she  says, 
"and—" 

"Yes,  and  I'm  not  used  to  havin'  dames 
like  you  ask  me!"  butts  in  the  Kid.  "But 
I  gotta  beat  Edwards — and  I  can't  beat  him 
by  stayin'  up  late!" 

She  just  breezes  past  him  and  down  the 
deck  without  another  word. 

The  Kid  kicks  a  fire  bucket  that  was 
standin'  there  into  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and 
from  the  way  he  slammed  the  door  of  his 
stateroom  I'll  bet  all  them  trick  beer  mugs 
that  Potts  had  on  the  wall  fell  on  the  floor. 

Well,  the  next  mornin'  we  all  go  over  to 
the  island  again  and  the  Kid  is  up  at  day- 
break, trottin'  over  the  hills.  He's  got  four 
sweaters  on,  although  it's  as  hot  as  blazes, 
and  I'm  taggin'  along  in  back  of  him. 
Then  he  comes  back,  changes  his  clothes 
and  works  in  the  picture  till  noon,  when  we 
knock  off  for  the  eats.  Miss  Vincent  passed 
us  once  when  we  was  talkin'  to  Genaro,  and 
she  deliberately  passed  the  Kid  up! 


126  KID  SCANLAN 

After  that  it  was  suicide  to  give  Scanlan 
a  nasty  look. 

Along  around  two  o'clock  that  afternoon, 
another  yacht  shows  up  a  little  ways  off  the 
island  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  stops  and 
five  guys  and  a  woman  hops  in  one  of  them 
trick  launches  and  put-puts  over  to  us. 
They  get  out  and  come  up  the  string-piece 
and  we  get  a  good  flash  at  them.  The  male 
members  of  the  party  is  all  dressed  up  in 
blue  coats  and  white  pants  and  from  their 
general  get-up  I  thought  they  was  all  gonna 
form  a  circle,  pick  up  the  ends  of  their  coats 
and  pipe.  "What  ho,  the  merry  villagers 
come  and  we  are  the  daisy  maids!" 

All  but  one.  He  was  a  great  big  husky, 
kinda  dark  skinned  and  he  looked  like  a 
assassin  with  the  women,  know  what  I 
mean?  Also,  I  had  seen  this  bird  some- 
wheres  before,  but  I  couldn't  check  him  up 
right  off  the  bat.  The  girl  that  was  with 
the  troupe  was  a  good  looker  all  right,  and 
you  could  see  she  was  a  big-timer.  Buf 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  127 

she  was  kinda  thin  and  worn  out  to  the 
naked  eye.  And  when  I  got  a  close-up  of 
her,  I  seen  there  was  a  funny  look  in  her 
eyes,  like  she  had  been  double-crossed  or 
somethin'.  She  looked  at  everything  like 
she  wished  it  was  hers,  but  there  was  no 
chance,  d'ye  get  me? 

Well,  Potts  comes  a-runnin'  to  meet  'em 
and  then  he  comes  up  and  introduces  'em 
all  around.  He  claims  they're  from  Frisco 
and  friends  of  his  which  has  come  over  to 
see  how  movin'  pictures  is  made  and  they 
might  even  go  so  far  as  to  take  off  a  part 
in  one  of  'em,  just  for  the  devilment  of  it. 
Miss  Vincent  looks  hard  and  close  at  the 
dark-skinned  guy,  like  she  was  tryin'  to 
think  where  she  had  seen  him  before,  but 
Genaro  come  along  just  then  and  I'll  bet 
them  newcomers  didn't  get  no  encourage- 
ment from  the  way  he  looked  'em  over. 
De  Vronde  and  Van  Aylstyne,  though,  fell 
for  this  bunch  so  hard  they  liked  to  broke 
their  necks.  It  seems  them  two  hicks  found 


128  KID  SCANLAN 

out  they  all  was  members  of  this  Golden 
West  Club,  and  they  did  everything  but 
shine  their  shoes  from  then  on. 

When  the  Kid  blows  in  and  sees  'em,  he 
claims  he  remembers  'em  all  as  bein'  among 
them  present  the  night  he  went  over  to  the 
Club,  and  he  says  they  had  better  keep  lots 
of  the  Golden  West  between  him  and  them 
while  they  was  in  our  midst. 

The  tall  dark  guy,  whose  name  was  some- 
thin'  like  Brown-Smith,  took  one  flash  at 
Miss  Vincent  and  then  everybody  else  could 
have  been  in  France  for  all  the  notice  he 
give  'em.  He  took  up  his  stand  about  two 
feet  away  from  her,  and  there  he  stuck  all 
day  long  like  cement.  Anybody  could 
see  that  this  stuff  was  causin'  two  people  to 
register  worry.  They  was  the  Kid  and  the 
dame  that  come  over  with  the  troupe. 
Scanlan  watches  Brown-Smith  makin'  his 
play  for  Miss  Vincent,  and  he  seen  that  if 
she  wasn't  encouragin'  him,  she  wasn't  com- 
plainin'  to  the  police  either,  but  the  Kid 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  129 

keeps  quiet  and  takes  it  out  in  makin'  them 
sparrin'  ex-bartenders  tired  of  life. 

The  next  day  I  got  up  early  lookin'  for 
the  Kid,  and  as  I  come  through  a  clearin* 
in  the  island  I  seen  three  things  at  once,  and 
if  I  hadn't  ducked  behind  a  tree,  they'd 
have  seen  me.  There's  my  meal  ticket 
with  all  his  sweaters  off,  standin'  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  little  space,  shadow  boxin'  in  front 
of  a  tree.  The  well  known  sun  is  shinin' 
down  on  his  blonde  head,  and  I  never  no- 
ticed before  just  what  a  handsome  brute  the 
Kid  was  in  action.  The  muscles  in  his 
arms  are  jumpin'  and  ripplin'  under  a  skin 
that  a  chorus  girl  would  give  five  years  for, 
and  he's  as  graceful  and  light  on  his  feet  as 
one  of  them  Russian  toe  dancers. 

The  other  two  things  I  seen  was  Miss 
Vincent  and  the  dame  that  had  blowed  in 
with  the  Golden  West  boys. 

The  new  dame  is  watchin'  the  Kid  like 
he  was  a  most  pleasin'  sight  to  them  tired 
little  eyes  of  hers.  Her  mouth  is  open  a 


i3o  KID  SCANLAN 

little  bit  and  there's  a  kind  of  wishin'  smile 
on  her  lips.  Y'know  she  looked  like  this 
was  what  she  wanted  ever  since  she  come 
into  the  store.  Get  me? 

Miss  Vincent  is  doin'  a  piece  of  watchin' 
herself  around  the  tree  that's  between  'em, 
only  she  ain't  watchin'  the  Kid.  She's 
watchin'  this  new  dame,  and  you  can  take 
it  from  me  she  was  registerin'  hate!  That 
classy  little  nose  of  hers  is  quiverin'  and 
she's  bitin'  hard  on  her  lip.  Her  body  was 
so  stiff  and  straight  that,  on  the  level,  I 
thought  she  was  gonna  spring! 

The  Kid  finally  stops  boxin',  puts  on  his 
sweaters  and  then  he  gets  a  flash  at  the  new 
dame.  She  calls  somethin'  to  him  and  he 
comes  over — then  they  start  back  to  the 
yacht  together.  Miss  Vincent  ducks  and 
so  did  I.  I  didn't  want  none  of  them  to  see 
me,  because  this  thing  was  gettin'  a  little 
too  deep  for  yours  in  the  faith. 

They  go  ahead  with  another  reel  of  the 
Kid's  picture  that  mornin',  and  Brown- 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  131 

Smith  still  keeps  hangin'  around  Miss  Vin- 
cent like  a  panhandler  outside  a  circus,  and 
when  she  has  to  come  in  the  picture  herself, 
he  stands  on  the  sidelines  beside  one  of  the 
camera  men,  with  them  chorus  men  friends 
of  his  draped  around  him.  The  Kid  is 
goin'  through  a  scene  where  he  flattens  half 
a  dozen  guys  that  are  tryin'  to  discourage 
him  from  fightin'  the  champ  and  Brown- 
Smith  is  givin'  his  friends  the  low  down  on 
it. 

"By  Jove!"  he  sneers,  just  loud  enough 
so's  we  can  all  get  an  earful.  "It  nauseates 
me  to  see  that  fellow  knocking  about  those 
poor  devils  who  have  to  do  that  for  a  liv- 
ing! Fawncy  him  doing  anything  like 
that  in  real  life!  Why,  he  would  most 
likely  call  for  the  police  if  some  one 
slapped  his  wrist.  I  know  those  moving 
picture  heroes!" 

This  troupe  of  Sweet  Williams  around 
him  snickers  right  out  loud  in  public  at 
that,  like  the  big  guy  was  simply  a  knock- 


132  KID  SCANLAN 

out  as  a  comedian.  Miss  Vincent  frowns 
and  the  new  dame  looks  kinda  worried  and 
nervous,  but  the  Kid  just  reddens  a  bit  and 
continues  to  swat  the  supers  all  over  the  lot. 
Brown-Smith  pulls  a  few  more  raw  cracks 
like  that,  gettin'  louder  and  nastier  all  the 
time,  and  finally  he  asks  Potts  to  let  him 
take  part  in  the  big  scene  at  the  end  of  the 
reel  where  the  Kid  is  supposed  to  bounce  ev- 
erybody in  the  thing  but  the  camera  men. 
He  says  it  will  be  great  stuff  to  tell  about  at 
the  club  the  first  rainy  night  and  a  lot  of 
bunk  like  that — all  the  time  he's  watchin' 
the  Kid  with  that  nasty  sneer  on  his  face. 

Potts  says  all  right,  and  offers  to  stake 
him  to  an  old  suit  of  clothes,  but  he  laughs 
and  says  he  won't  need  anything,  tossin'  his 
coat  to  one  side  like  the  acrobat  at  the  the- 
atre flips  away  his  handkerchief  before  goin' 
to  work.  He  rolls  up  his  sleeves  and  starts 
limberin'  up  his  arms  in  front  of  Miss  Vin- 
cent, winkin'  at  her  and  noddin'  to  the  Kid. 
She  looks  kinda  worried,  but  her  control  is 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  133 

good  and  she  holds  fast.  She  wasn't  the 
only  one  that  looked  worried,  believe  me! 
I  was  doin'  that  thing  myself,  because  this 
Brown-Smith  guy  had  a  good  thirty  pounds 
on  the  Kid,  and  he  was  built  that  way  all 
over,  reach,  height  and  everything  else. 
The  minute  he  put  up  his  hands,  I  seen  two 
things.  First,  that  he  knowed  somethin' 
about  box  fightin'  and,  second,  that  he  was 
goin'  to  try  and  bounce  the  Kid  for  the  ben- 
efit of  Miss  Vincent. 

While  they're  gettin'  things  ready  for  the 
massacre,  the  Kid  comes  over  to  me  and 
says, 

"What's  the  big  idea?  I  know  this  bird 
— he's  the  guy  that  asked  me  to  bring  him 
a  glawss  of  Appollinaris  that  night  at  the 
Golden  West  Club.  If  he  fusses  around 
me,  I'm  gonna  maul  him!" 

I  knowed  that  wasn't  the  reason,  because 
Kid  Scanlan  could  take  both  a  wallop  or 
a  joke.  The  reason  was  standin'  about 
three  feet  away  talkin'  to  Genaro  and  she 


i34  KID  SCANLAN 

never  looked  better.     Believe  me,  she  had 
everything  that  mornin'I 

"Looka  thisa  bigga  boob,  Miss  Vincent!" 
Genaro  is  sayin',  wavin'  his  arms  around 
and  shakin'  his  head  at  Brown-Smith. 
"He'sa  wanna  get  in  my  picture  so  he 
showa  the  girls  what  a  bigga  fella  he  is. 
Meester  Potts  he's  a  go  crazee  if  thisa  pic- 
ture she's  a  no  good.  He's  a  joomp  at  me, 
he's  a  holler  at  me  and  he  letta  thisa  bigga 
bunk  get  in  it!  Thisa  fight,  she'sa  gotta 
looka  real — not  lika  the  actor,  butta  real! 
Thisa  fella  he'sa  go  in  slappa  Meester 
Scanlan  on  he'sa  wrist.  Meester  Scanlan 
he'sa  no  wanna  hurt  Meester  Potts'  fren'- 
you  know? — so  he'sa  slappa  heem  back! 
Everybody  she'sa  laugh  at  me  when  they 
showa  that  picture.  Aha!  They  maka  me 
crazee!" 

He  runs  over  to  Brown-Smith  and  grabs 
Ifiis  arm. 

"Please,   Meester!"   he   begs   him,   with 
tears  in  his  eyes.     "Please,  Meester,  getta 


PLEASURE  ISLAND 

gooda  and  rough  with  thisa  fella  I"  he 
points  to  the  Kid.  "Don't  be  afraid  for 
heem,  he's  a  tougha  nut!  He's  a  nevaire 
geta  hurt!  Don't  maka  thisa  fight  looka 
like  the  act.  You  rusha  heem,  hitta  heem, 
wrestle  heem,  choka  heem,  graba  heem,  bita 
heem,  kicka  heem,  anything  but  keela  heem, 
so  thisa  picture  she  looka  like  reala  fight! 
Pretty  soon,  I  blowa  the  whistle.  He's  a 
hitta  you  easy — so — you  falla  down.  Maka 
looka  good,  don't  sitta  down,  falla  down — • 
so!—  Genaro  stops  and  throws  himself 
on  the  grass  and  then  hops  up  again.  "You 
watcha  that?"  he  goes  on.  uAlla  right!" 
He  jumps  away  from  the  cameras  and  yells, 
"Hey,  Joe!  You  stanna  over  there  and 
shoota  this  froma  the  right!  Alia  right, 
now  everybody!  Meester  Kid  Scanlan, 
you  ready?  Gooda!  Come  now — cameras 
• — ready — shoot!" 

The  Kid  meets  the  rush  of  the  gang  like 
they  had  practised  it  together,  and  he  floors 
one  after  the  other  of  them  with  snappy  left 


136  KID  SCANLAN 

hooks.  Of  course  he  was  pullin'  his 
punches  and  barely  touchin'  these  hicks,  but 
it  looked  awful  good  from  front.  Then 
Brown-Smith,  who  had  been  hangin' 
around  on  the  outside,  rushes  in.  For  a 
guy  who  had  never  tried  the  thing  before, 
he  struck  me  as  bein'  real  swift  at  pickin'  up 
the  rules,  because  he  faced  the  cameras  at 
the  right  angles  and  pulled  a  lot  of  fancy 
stuff  that  usually  nobody  but  a  sure  enough 
movie  actor  knows.  The  Kid  sidesteps 
him  and  puts  a  light  left  to  his  chin  and 
Brown-Smith  comes  back  with  a  right 
swing  that  would  have  floored  the  Kid,  if 
it  hadn't  been  too  high.  The  Kid  went 
back  on  his  heels  and  a  little  trickle  of  claret 
comes  from  his  lips.  Genaro  jumps  in  the 
air,  clappin'  his  hands.  "Magnificenta!" 
he  yells.  Miss  Vincent  is  breathin'  hard 
and  her  hands  pressed  up  tight  against  her 
chest.  Her  face  was  the  color  of  skimmed 
milk.  Genaro  pipes  her  and  grabs  a  cam- 
era man.  "Shoota  that — queek!"  he  hoi- 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  137 

lers,  pointin'  to  her.  The  new  dame  runs 
over  to  me  and  grabs  my  arm. 

"Stop  it!"  she  whispers,  excited  like. 
"You  must!  Albert  will  kill  him!  He 
was  amateur  heavyweight  champion  once 
and — oh! — he  wants  to  beat  Mr.  Scanlan — 
he— oh!— " 

I  heard  Miss  Vincent  give  a  little  yelp, 
and  I  shove  this  dame  away  and,  believe 
me,  bo,  /  come  near  goin'  dead  on  my  feet! 
Because  there's  my  champ  on  the  ground, 
layin'  flat  on  his  face  and  he  looked  as  cold 
as  the  North  Pole!  I  started  to  dash  in, 
but  Genaro  grabs  me  and  throws  me  aside. 
"Stoppa,  fool!"  he  yells.  "Thisa  picture 
she'sa  maka  me  famous!" 

The  rest  of  the  mob  is  too  scared  to  do 
anything — they  knowed  that  this  was  the 
real  thing!  The  Kid  gets  up  on  one  knee, 
and,  on  the  level,  the  only  sound  you  could 
hear  was  his  choked  breathin'  and  the 
steady  click  of  the  cameras — yes,  and  / 
guess  the  beatin'  of  my  heart!  The  Kid  is 


I38  KID  SCANLAN 

shakin'  his  head  to  clear  it  from  that  wallop 
and  I  yelled  to  him  to  stay  down  and  take 
his  time.  He  gets  half  way  up  and  slides 
down  again  flat  and  Brown-Smith  laughs. 
Then  Miss  Vincent  suddenly  turns,  and 
there's  a  bucket  of  ice  cold  lemonade 
standin'  on  a  bench  beside  her.  It  had 
been  put  there  for  the  extry  people.  This 
here  eighteen-carat,  regular  fellow  dame 
grabs  that  bucket  and  throws  the  lemonade 
all  over  the  Kid's  head  and  shoulders! 

It  braced  him  like  a  charge  of  hop — his 
head  jerked  up  as  it  hit  him  and  he  shook 
off  the  drops — and  in  another  second  he  was 
on  his  feet,  smilin'  the  old  Scanlan  smile 
and  dancin'  around  this  guy  who  was 
rushin'  in  to  finish  him.  He  swings  for  the 
Kid's  jaw  and  the  Kid,  movin'  his  head  an 
inch  out  of  the  way,  puts  a  hard  right  and 
left  to  the  mouth.  Brown-Smith  coughed 
out  a  tooth  that  he  had  no  further  use  for, 
and  starts  backin'  away,  coverin'  up  like 
a  crab.  The  Kid  laughs  over  at  me  and 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  139 

sends  this  guy's  head  back  like  it  was  on  a 
hinge,  with  two  uppercuts  and  a  right  jab. 
He  tries  to  rush  in  and  grab  the  Kid,  and 
Scanlan  closes  his  left  eye  with  the  prettiest 
straight  left  I  ever  seen.  He  wasn't  tryin' 
to  knock  this  big  stiff  out,  he  was  deliber- 
ately cuttin'  him  to  pieces  in  a  most  cold, 
workmanlike  manner. 

Miss  Vincent  is  smilin'  now  and  the  other 
dame — is  not!  Potts's  mouth  is  open  about 
five  yards  and  he  looks  like  he  don't  know 
whether  to  call  the  police  or  go  back  to  the 
box  office  for  a  better  seat.  Then  the  Kid 
starts  backin'  friend  Brown-Smith  all  over 
the  place,  shootin'  lefts  and  rights  at  him 
so  fast  that  I  bet  he  thought  it  was  rainin 
wallops.  He  begins  to  register  yellah — 
he  gazes  around  wildly  at  Genaro  and 
Genaro  reaches  for  the  whistle  so's  Brown- 
Smith  can  quit,  but  Miss  Vincent  sees  him 
reach  for  it  and  she  knocks  it  out  of  his 
hand!  Genaro  looks  hard  at  her  and  yells 
to  the  camera  men  to  keep  turnin'  the 


i4o  KID  SCANLAN 

cranks.  Potts  starts  over,  stops,  shakes  his 
shoulders  and  turns  his  back. 

Then  the  Kid  tips  back  Brown-Smith's 
head  with  a  lightnin'  right  hook  and  drops 
him  with  a  left  to  the  jaw. 

They  stopped  the  cameras  and  everybody 
give  a  hand  in  bringin'  the  dashin'  Brown- 
Smith  back  to  the  Golden  West  again. 
Everybody  but  me,  the  Kid  and  Miss  Vin- 
cent. The  Kid  walks  over  to  Potts  and 
stares  at  him. 

"Well,"  he  says.  "I  guess  I'm  through 
after  that,  eh?" 

Potts  slaps  him  on  the  back. 

"Hardly!"  he  grins.  "That  was  the 
greatest  piece  of  acting  I  ever  saw  before 
a  camera!" 

Genaro  runs  up  and  grabs  the  Kid's  hand. 

"Wonderful!"  he  hollers.  "Magnifi- 
centa!  You  are  what  you  calla  the  true 
artiste,  Meester  Kid  Scanlan!  That  pic- 
ture she  will  be  the  talka  of  the  country  1 
She'sa  maka  me  famous!" 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  141 

"Yeh?"  says  the  Kid.  He  turns  to  me 
and  waves  over  to  where  Brown-Smith  is 
recognizin'  relatives  and  close  friends. 
"That  guy  has  an  awful  good  left!"  he  says. 
He  thinks  for  a  minute.  "D'ye  know,"  he 
goes  on,  "that  hick  was  trying  at  that!" 

I  see  Miss  Vincent  talkin'  to  Potts  and 
all  of  a  sudden  he  throws  up  his  hands  and 
stares  over  at  Brown-Smith. 

"What?"  he  hollers.     "Impossible!" 

Then  he  slaps  his  hands  together  and 
laughs  out  loud. 

"Oh!"  he  says,  holdin'  his  sides.  "This 
is  too  much!  Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"What's  the  joke?"  I  asks  Miss  Vincent. 

"It's  more  of  a  tragedy!"  she  says,  kinda 
hysterical  like  she  was  glad  it  was  all  over. 
"That  man  is  no  more  Brown-Smith  than 
you  are.  He's  Albert  Ellington  LaRue, 
who  five  years  ago  was  the  biggest  moving 
picture  leading  man  in  the  country!  Why, 
he  got  hundreds  of  letters  every  day  from 
poor,  foolish  little  girls  who  grew  dizzy 


1 42  KID  SCANLAN 

watching  him  foil  villains  in  five  reels  a 
week.  He  inherited  some  money — quite  a 
lot,  I  believe,  and  suddenly  vanished  from 
the  screen,  turning  up  as  Brown-Smith  here 
last  year.  But  he  simply  could  not  resist 
the  call  of  his  vanity  to  come  back  once 
more  as  the  dashing  hero  of  the  film.  He 
had  planned  to  step  into  this  picture,  turn 
the  tables  in  the  fight  with  Mr.  Scanlan, 
who  he  thought  was  an  actor  and  not  a  pu- 
gilist, and  thus  come  back  to  the  movies  in 
a  blaze  of  glory!  He  told  me  he  had  two 
press  agents  awaiting  the  word  to  flash  his 
coup  all  over  the  country.  He  thought  it 
would  make  a  great  story!"  She  stopped 
and  laughed.  "It  will!"  she  goes  on. 
"Think  of  the  matinee  girls  when  they  see 
their  darling  Albert  back  in  the  flash  once 
more  and  being  unmercifully  beaten  by  a 
man  thirty  pounds  lighter  and  inches 
smaller  than  him!" 
Just  then  the  fair  Albert  comes  limpin' 


PLEASURE  ISLAND  143 

over  to  Potts.  He  looked  like  he'd  been 
battlin'  a  buzz  saw! 

"Mr.  Potts,"  he  says,  "if  you  dare  to  use 
that  scene  in  your  picture,  I  will  bring  suit 
against  your  firm.  I  demand  that  the  film 
be  destroyed  at  once!" 

"What  you  say!"  screams  Genaro. 
"Nevaire!  She'sa  mine,  that  picture! 
Away  wit'  you — you  bigga  bunk!"  He 
stands  before  the  camera  like  he's  ready  and 
willin'  to  protect  it  with  his  life. 

"You  entered  the  scene  of  your  own  ac- 
cord, Mr.  LaRue"  remarks  Potts,  "and  I 
trust  you  are  in  earnest  about  suing  us. 
The  publicity  will  just  about  save  me  a  hun- 
dred thousand  in  advertising." 

As  soon  as  he  heard  that  name  "LaRue," 
this  guy  just  kinda  caves  in  and  closes  up 
tight.  Miss  Vincent  turns  her  nose  up  at 
him  and  walks  over  to  the  Kid  as  the  other 
dame  comes  up  and  shakes  Scanlan's  hand. 

"Thank  you!"  she  says,  in  that  tired  voice 


144  KID  SCANLAN 

of  hers.  "You  have  done  a  big  thing  for 
me!  Now  he  cannot  go  into  the  pictures 
again,  and  maybe  he'll — he'll  stay  home 
with  me!" 

At  that  Miss  Vincent  suddenly  leans  over 
and  kisses  her.  Can  you  beat  them  dames? 

Albert  picks  up  his  hat  and  straightens 
his  tie.  Then  he  glares  from  one  to  the 
other  of  us  and  walks  over  to  Genaro. 

"I  trust,"  he  says,  throwin'  out  his  chest. 
"I  trust  you  realize  that  if  your  picture  is 
a  success,  I,  and  I  alone,  am  responsible  for 
it.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  advent  of  my- 
self, a  finished  artist,  in  that  fight  scene,  it 
would  have  fallen  flat!  Good  day,  sir!" 

And  him  and  his  dame  and  the  white- 
faced  Sweet  Williams  blows  1 


CHAPTER  IV 

LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS 

I  DON'T  mind  a  four-flusher  if  his  stuff 
is  good,  know  what  I  mean?  A  guy 
that  makes  the  world  think  he's  there  forty 
ways  when  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he's  shy 
about  sixty,  deserves  credit.  Usually,  them 
birds  get  it  too!  They  know  more  about 
credit  than  the  guy  that  wrote  it,  and  any 
butcher,  grocer,  tailor  or  the  like  who  fig- 
ures on  'em  settlin'  the  old  account  has 
no  right  to  be  in  business.  The  only  time 
a  four-flusher  pays  off  is  when  he  hits  a  new 
town.  Then,  if  the  attendance  is  good,  he'll 
buy  four  or  five  evenin'  papers  right  out 
loud  in  front  of  everybody,  carelessly  dis- 
playin'  a  couple  of  yellow  bills  that  might 
be  fifties — if  they  wasn't  tens.  After  that 
outburst,  all  he  spends  is  the  week  end. 
145 


i46  KID  SCANLAN 

For  the  benefit  of  them  which  live  in 
towns  where  the  total  vote  for  President 
sounds  like  the  score  of  a  world  series  game, 
I'll  explain  what  a  four-flusher  is,  although 
they  probably  got  one  in  their  midst,  at  that. 
You'll  generally  find  one  wherever  there's 
two  people — men  or  women.  A  four- 
flusher  is  a  guy  who  claims  he  can  lick  Jack 
Dempsey  in  a  loud  and  annoyin'  voice,  and 
then  runs  seven  blocks  in  five  minutes  flat 
when  some  hick  in  the  back  room  arises  to 
remark  that  he's  willin'  to  take  a  beatin'  for 
Jack.  A  four-flusher  is  the  bird  that 
breezes  down  Main  street  in  a  set  of  scenery 
that  would  make  John  Drew  look  like  one 
of  the  boys  in  the  gas  main  trenches  some- 
wheres  in  Broadway,  and  yet  couldn't  pur- 
chase an  eraser,  if  rubber  was  sellin'  at 
three  cents  a  ton.  A  four-flusher  is  a  hick 
that  admits  bein'  a  better  singer  than  Ca- 
ruso, a  better  ball-player  than  Ty  Cobb,  a 
better  real  estate  judge  than  Columbus  and 
more  of  a  chance  taker  than  Napoleon. 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         147 

The  first  time  he  starts  at  any  one  of 
them  things,  he's  a  odds-on  favorite  for 
last  and  finishes  ten  lengths  behind  the  rest 
of  the  field.  That's  a  four-flusher. 

A  guy  can  be  taught  paintin',  pinochle, 
politics  and  prohibition,  but  a  first-class 
four-flusher  is  born  that  way! 

Takin'  'em  as  a  league,  I'm  about  as  fond 
of  them  guys  as  a  worm  is  of  a  fisherman. 
The  only  one  I  ever  fell  for  was  J.  Harold 
Cuthbert,  and  that  bird  had  somethin'  that 
the  others  didn't — he  was  different!  I 
thought  I  had  seen  'em  all,  but  this  guy 
crossed  me,  his  stuff  was  new! 

The  way  I  met  Harold  was  almost  ro- 
mantic. He  was  reclinin'  on  the  ground 
in  a  careless  manner  about  ten  feet  away 
from  the  main  entrance  to  Film  City,  and 
he  looked  like  the  loser  in  a  battle  royal 
where  the  weapons  used  had  been  picked 
out  by  a  guy  who  hoped  there'd  be  no  sur- 
vivors. He  was  gazin'  up  at  what  the  na- 
tives insist  is  a  better  grade  of  sky  than  any- 


i48  KID  SCANLAN 

thing  we  got  in  the  East,  and  he  looked  like 
he  was  tryin'  to  figure  whether  they  was 
right  or  not  About  two  feet  away,  lum- 
berman's measure,  observin'  the  wreck  and 
yawnin',  was  Francis  Xavier  Scanlan, 
known  to  the  trade  as  Kid  Scanlan,  welter- 
weight champion  of  the  world  and  Shan- 
tung. I  looked  around  for  a  director  and 
a  camera  man,  but  they  was  nobody  else  in 
sight,  so  figurin'  this  couldn't  be  nothin' 
more  than  a  dress  rehearsal,  I  stepped  over 
to  the  Kid. 

"Who's  your  friend?"  I  asks  him,  noddin* 
to  the  sleepin'  beauty. 

"I  seen  Genaro  lookin'  for  you,"  says  the 
Kid.  "I'll  bet  you  been  over  to  Frisco 
tryin'  to  nail  that  dame  at  the  Busy  Bee, 
ain't  you?" 

"A  gambler  will  never  get  nowheres,"  I 
tells  him,  "but  you're  startin'  off  with  a 
win  on  that  bet!"  I  points  at  the  model  for 
still  life  again.  "When  does  that  guy  get 
up?"  I  inquires. 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         149 

The  Kid  looks  down  at  him  for  a  minute, 
proddin'  him  carelessly  with  his  foot. 

"Weather  permitting"  he  answers,  "he 
ought  to  be  on  his  feet  in  five  more  minutes, 
and  I'd  never  have  raised  a  finger  to  him,  if 
he  hadn't  come  at  me  first!" 

"D'ye  mean  to  say  you  been  wallopin' 
that  guy?"  I  says. 

"Well,  what  does  it  look  like?"  sneers  the 
Kid.  "A  man's  got  a  right  to  protect  him- 
self, ain't  he?" 

"He  hit  you,  eh?"  I  says. 

"No!"  answers  the  Kid.  "He  didn't  get 
that  far  with  it,  but  he  claimed  he  was  goin' 
to,  and  naturally  it  was  up  to  me  to  stop 
him  from  gettin'  in  a  brawl.  I  never  seen 
a  gamer  guy  in  my  life,  either,"  he  goes  on, 
admirin'ly.  "He  knows  he'll  catch  cold 
layin'  on  the  ground  like  that,  and  yet  the 
minute  I  stung  him  he  takes  a  dive  and  stays 
down !" 

By  this  time  our  hero  has  risen  to  his  feet 
and,  while  dustin'  off  his  clothes,  he  looks 


150  KID  SCANLAN 

like  he's  figurin'  whether  he  ought  to  claim 
he'd  been  doped  and  ask  for  a  return  bout, 
or  call  it  a  day  and  let  it  go  at  that.  Ex- 
cept for  where  the  Kid  had  jabbed  him,  he 
wasn't  a  bad  lookin'  bird,  his  best  bets  bein' 
a  crop  of  dark,  wavy  hair  and  a  set  of  fea- 
tures which  any  movie  leadin'  man  could 
give  ten  thousand  bucks  for  and  make  it 
up  on  the  first  picture.  The  suit  of  clothes 
he  was  wearin'  had  probably  put  the  tailor 
over,  and  he  also  had  two  yellow  gloves 
and  a  little  trick  cane.  He  walks  over  to 
where  me  and  the  Kid  was  standin'  and 
takes  off  his  hat.  It  was  one  of  them 
dashin',  devilish  soft  things  that  has  names 
like  Pullman  cars — you  know,  "The  Bryn 
Mawr,  $2.50.  All  Harvard  Wears  One." 
Then  he  points  at  the  Kid  with  his  cane. 

"I  made  a  serious  error,"  he  remarks,  "in 
engaging  in  a  brawl  with  a  thug!  I 
thought  you  would  meet  me  with  a  gentle- 
man's weapons  and— 

"I  ain't  got  a  marshmallow  on  me,"  butts 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         151 

in  the  Kid,  grinnin',  "or  I  would  have  done 
that  thing.  You  come  at  me  without  no 
warnin',  didn't  you?" 

"Merciful  Heaven,  what  grammar  1" 
says  the  other  guy.  "I  didn't  come  at  you, 
as  you  say  in  that  quaint  English  of  yours, 
I  thought  you  could  take  a  joke  or — " 

"Yeh?"  interrupts  the  Kid.  "That's 
what  the  formerly  Kaiser  has  been  tryin'  to 
tell  the  world,  but  it  ain't  goin'  into  hys- 
terics over  his  comedy!" 

"Well,"  says  the  other  guy,  buttonin'  up 
his  coat  and  glarin'  at  us  both,  "this  is 
not  the  end  of  the  incident,  you  can  rest  as- 
sured of  that!  The  next  time  we  meet  I 
think  the  result  will  be  different!" 

"Say!"  pipes  the  Kid.  "What  d'ye  think 
I'm  gonna  do — fight  a  world  series  with 
you?  If  you  wanna  scrap,  I  know  where 
you  can  get  all  the  action  you  can  handle." 

"And  where  is  that,  pray?"  asks  the  other 
guy. 

"Russia!"    says    the    Kid.     "You    must 


152  KID  SCANLAN 

have  seen  it  in  the  papers."  He  pats  him 
on  the  shoulder.  "And  now,  good-by  and 
good  luck,"  he  goes  on.  "I'm  sorry  I  had  to 
bounce  you,  but — " 

"Enough  of  this  nonsense!"  cuts  in  the 
other  guy,  pullin'  out  a  card  and  passin'  it 
over  to  the  Kid.  "My  seconds  will  wait 
upon  you  to-morrow.  I  choose  rapiers!" 

"You  which?"  says  the  Kid,  examinin' 
the  card.  "I  don't  make  you." 

"I  said  that  my  choice  of  weapons  is  ra- 
piers!" explains  this  guy.  "And  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fairness  I  must  tell  you  that  I  have 
never  met  my  equal  with  a  sword!" 

"Are  you  tryin'  to  kid  me?"  asks  Scanlan. 
"What  d'ye  mean  rapiers?" 

"Is  it  possible  you  have  never  handled  a 
blade?"  exclaims  the  other  guy,  like  he 
couldn't  have  heard  it  right. 

"I  used  to,  at  that,"  admits  the  Kid,  "but 
now  I  use  a  fork,  except  to  pat  down  the  po- 
tatoes!" 

"So   much   the  worse   for   you,   then!" 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         153 

frowns  the  sword-swallower.  "But  you 
brought  it  upon  yourself.  Remember,  to- 
morrow! And—  he  stoops  over  and 
hisses,  " — rapiers,  without  buttons!" 

"Ha,  ha!"  yells  the  Kid.  "Raypeers 
without  buttons !  How  are  you  gonna  hold 
'em  up?" 

"Your  ignorance  is  pathetic — not  funny!" 
answers  the  other  guy. 

"I  know,"  says  the  Kid.  "I  barely  got 
through  Yale!"  He  lays  his  arm  on  this 
guy's  shoulder.  "Are  you  on  the  level  with 
this  fight  thing?"  he  asks  him. 

"I  was  never  more  in  earnest  in  my  life!" 
says  the  knife-thrower. 

"Or  nearer  Heaven!"  grins  the  Kid. 
"All  right!"  he  goes  on.  "I'm  game,  if 
you  are,  only  there's  just  one  question  I'd 
like  to  ask  before  the  slaughter  begins ;  don't 
I  get  no  say  about  the  tools  we're  gonna 
use?" 

This  guy  thinks  for  a  minute  and  then 
nods  his  head. 


154  KID  SCANLAN 

"Very  well!"  he  says.  "I'll  make  the 
concession — an  unheard-of  thing  in  the 
code.  What  is  your  choice?" 

"Pinochle!"  yells  the  Kid.  "I'll  stake 
you  to  a  hundred  aces  and  beat  you  from 
here  to  Denver!" 

"Ugh!"  snorts  the  other  guy — and  castin' 
a  sneer  at  both  of  us,  he  passes  in  the  gate. 

We  went  in  after  him,  and  the  Kid  tells 
me  how  he  come  to  flatten  this  baby,  which, 
from  the  card  he  give  us,  was  J.  Harold 
Cuthbert.  The  Kid  says  Harold  stopped 
him  outside  the  portals  of  Film  City 
and  asked  him  why  no  auto  had  met  him 
at  the  train.  Scanlan  says  he  didn't  know, 
but  he  had  seen  the  mayor  and  two  brass 
bands  goin'  down  and  hadn't  Harold 
met  'em?  Harold  says  he  had  not  and  he 
was  gonna  file  a  complaint  about  it,  because 
he  was  the  greatest  movie  actor  that  ever 
bawled  out  a  director.  With  that,  says  the 
Kid,  he  reeled  off  the  names  of  the  pictures 
he  had  been  featured  in,  and  from  the  list 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         155 

he  give  out  the  only  thing  he  wasn't  fea- 
tured in  was  "Microbes  at  Play,"  a  educa- 
tional film  tore  off  by  the  company  last  year. 
The  Kid  asks  him  if  he  ever  heard  of  Kid 
Scanlan,  the  shop  girls'  delight,  who  was 
bein'  starred  in  a  five-reeler  called  "Lay  Off, 
MacDuff."  Harold  throwed  out  his  chest 
and  says  he  wrote  it  and  practically  made 
Scanlan  by  directin'  it.  At  that  the  Kid 
tells  him  that  he  may  be  a  movie  star,  but 
he  looks  like  a  liar  to  him.  Harold  makes 
a  pass  at  him,  and  Scanlan  hit  him  to  see 
would  he  bounce.  He  didn't,  and  he  was 
just  comin'  around  when  I  blowed  on  the 
scene. 

When  we  got  to  Genaro's  office,  Harold 
was  tellin'  Eddie  Duke  the  reason  he  was 
bunged  up  was  because  he  had  fell  off  the 
train  comin'  out,  and  Eddie  says  that  was 
tough  and  it  was  time  Congress  got  after 
them  railroads,  but  the  thing  he'd  like  to 
know  was  why  Harold  had  come  out  at  all. 
They  had  looked  up  the  files  and  there  was 


156  KID  SCANLAN 

nothin'  to  show  who  had  ordered  this  guy 
shipped  on. 

Harold  looks  over  the  bunch  in  the  office 
for  a  minute,  registers  "I-am-thinking- 
deeply,"  and  then  snaps  his  fingers. 

"Oh!"  he  says.  "I  had  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction from  Mr.  Potts,  but  I  suppose  it's 
in  my  gray  morning  suit  which  will  arrive 
with  my  trunks  in  a  day  or  so.  Mr.  Potts 
and  myself  are  old  friends,"  he  winks  at 
Genaro  confidentially.  "I  really  think  my 
father  owns  a  slew  of  the  company's  stock, 
but  then  Dad  is  connected  with  so  many  vast 
enterprises  that— 

"Joosta  wan  minoote!"  interrupts  Gen- 
aro,  turnin'  a  cold  eye  on  Harold. 
"Joosta  wan  minoote!  We're  very  busy 
joosta  now,  sometime  nex'  week  everybody 
she'sa  listen  about  your  father.  What  we 
wanna  know  is  what  Meester  Potts  he'sa 
senda  you  out  here  to  do?" 

"Yeh!"  says  Duke.  "That's  the  idea— 
what's  your  act?" 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         157 

"Why,  I  intend  to  play  romantic  leads," 
pipes  Harold,  "and  I  have  an  idea  that— 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughs  the  Kid.  "That's  fair 
enough.  All  Edison  had  was  a  idea,  and 
look  at  him  now!" 

Harold  frowns  at  him  and  walks  over  to 
Miss  Vincent. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Vincent,"  he  says, 
takin'  off  his  hat  and  presentin'  her  with  a 
bow.  "I  knew  you  at  once  from  your  pho- 
tographs. I  have  a  remarkable  memory, 
inherited  from  my  father.  The  late  J.  P. 
Morgan  once  said  of  him,  during  the  course 
of  a  gigantic  stock  deal,  that — but  enough 
of  personalities.  I  saw  you  in  the  'Esca- 
pades of  Eva.' ' 

"Did  you  like  me?"  smiles  Miss  Vincent. 

"Very  much!"  Harold  tells  her.  "Al- 
though the  mediocre  support  and  execrable 
direction  spoiled  most  of  your  opportuni- 
ties. Now  if  I  had  directed  that  picture, 
you  would  have  been  a  great  deal— 

"Joosta  wan  minoote!"  butts  in  Genaro, 


158  KID  SCANLAN 

gettin'  red  in  the  face.  "I,  Genaro,  directed 
that  picture!" 

Harold  looks  over  at  him  and  lights  a  cig- 
arette. 

"Well,"  he  says,  flickin'  the  ash  in  Gen- 
aro's  drinkin'  glass,  "I  daresay  you  did 
your  best!  But  had  I  been  there  when  the 
picture  was  being  produced,  I  would  have 
suggested  a  great  many  things  that  would 
have  greatly  improved  it.  I  remember 
calling  Belasco's  attention  to  a  detail  one 
time  and  Dave  said  to  me— 

"Enough!"  snaps  Genaro,  glarin'  at  him. 
"You  will  report  to  Meester  Duke.  He'sa 
tella  you  what  to  do.  Or  maybe,"  he 
snorts,  "maybe  you  tella  heem!" 

And  he  stamps  out  of  the  office. 

"What  a  quaint  little  man!"  says  Harold, 
sittin'  down  in  Genaro's  chair  and  glancin' 
with  interest  over  some  letters  that  was  on 
his  desk.  "How  do  those  chaps  ever  get 
into  the  movies?" 

"Ow!"  whispers  Duke.     "If  the  quaint 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS 

little  man  had  only  heard  that!"  He  turns 
to  Harold.  "I  don't  know  where  I  can 
place  you  right  away,"  he  says.  "How  are 
you  on  Shakespeare?  We're  putting  on  a 
seven  reeler  of  'As  You  Like  It'  with  Betty 
Vincent  as  Rosalind.  Do  you  think  you 
could  do  Orlando?" 

Harold  throws  out  his  chest  and  sneers. 

"What  a  question!"  he  remarks.  "I 
could  eat  it  up!" 

"I  don't  want  you  to  eat  it,"  says  Duke,. 
gettin'  sore.  "If  you  can  play  it,  I'll  be  sat- 
isfied! You  had  better  go  over  and  reg- 
ister at  the  hotel  now,  and,  when  you  come 
back,  we'll  go  over  the  thing." 

Harold  gets  up,  yawns  and  looks  at  Miss 
Vincent. 

"I'll  show  you  an  entirely  new  interpre- 
tation of  Rosalind,  Miss  Vincent,"  he  tells 
her.  "Of  course,  Shakespeare  was  clever 
after  a  fashion,  but  / — however,"  he  breaks 
off  and  holds  out  his  arm.  "Would  you 
care  to  walk  about  the  grounds  here  a  bit,., 


i.6o  KID  SCANLAN 

so  that  I  may  illustrate  some  of 'the  salient 
points  in  my  version?" 

"No!"  cuts  in  the  Kid,  before  she  can  an- 
swer. "On  your  way!"  he  says.  "Miss 
Vincent's  got  a  date  with  me  to  find  out  is 
it  true  you  can  make  ninety  miles  an  hour 
in  a  1921  Automatic!" 

"But — but,  my  dear  sir—  "  splutters  Har- 
old. "I— you— " 

"Listen,  Stupid,"  says  the  Kid.  "I  can't 
be  bouncin'  you  all  day,  but  if  you  don't 
canter  along,  I'll  make  you  hard  to  catch!" 

Miss  Vincent  smiles  and  grabs  the  Kid 
by  the  arm. 

"Let  us  have  no  violence!"  she  says. 
"You  can  tell  me  all  about  Rosalind  when 
I  return,  Mr.  Cuthbert." 

"Yeh,"  adds  the  Kid.  "I'll  be  willin'  to 
stand  for  a  earful  of  it  myself,  then." 

And  they  breeze  out  of  the  office. 

"Heavens,  what  an  uncouth  ruffian!" 
pipes  Harold,  lookin'  after  'em.  "I  won- 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         161 

der  Miss  Vincent  trusts  herself  in  his  com- 
pany." 

"She's  a  whole  lot  safer  with  him  than 
you'd  be,  old  top!"  I  says.  "And  if  I  was 
you,  I'd  lay  off  that  uncouth  ruffian  stuff 
around  the  Kid.  Don't  keep  temptin'  him, 
because  he's  liable  to  get  sore,  and  when 
Scanlan  gets  mad  you  want  to  be  in  the 
next  county!" 

"Huh!"  sneers  Harold.  "What  does  he 
do,  pray?" 

"Well,"  I  says,  "I'll  tell  you.  I  don't  get 
that  dewpray  thing  of  yours,  but  the  last 
time  the  Kid  got  peeved  he  won  the  welter- 
weight title!  Is  that  good  enough?" 

"He  had  better  look  to  his  laurels,"  re- 
marks Harold,  "for  if  he  insults  me  again, 
he'll  lose  them !  I'm  rather  a  master  of  box- 
ing, and  at  home  I  won  several  medals  as  an 
amateur  heavy — " 

"I  suppose,"  I  butts  in,  "I  suppose  you 
left  them  medals  in  one  of  them  gray 


1 62  KID  SCANLAN 

mornin'  suits  of  yours,  eh?  You  didn't 
have  'em  on  when  the  Kid  flattened  you,  did 
you?" 

"I  am  not  fond  of  vulgar  display,"  he 
says,  "or — ' 

"What  are  you  wearin'  that  black  eye 
for  then?"  I  asks  him. 

He  didn't  have  none  ready  for  that,  and  I 
blew. 

Well,  Harold  run  true  to  form. 

The  next  afternoon  I  seen  Duke  standin' 
near  the  African  Desert.  He  was  callin' 
upon  Heaven  in  a  voice  that  could  be  heard 
plainly  in  Cape  May,  N.  J.,  to  ask  it  if  it 
had  ever  seen  a  actor  like  J.  Harold  Cuth- 
bert.  Not  gettin'  no  answer,  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  other  place,  and  when  he 
seen  me  he  put  it  up  to  me. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Harold?"  I  asks 
him.  "I  thought  he  was  gonna  be  a  knock- 
out in  this  Shakespeare  stuff." 

"He  was!"  says  Duke.  "The  camera 
men  are  laughin'  yetl  Alongside  of  that 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         163 

big  four-flusher,  Kid  Scanlan  would  look 
like  Richard  Mansfield!" 

"He's  rotten,  eh?"  I  says. 

"Rotten?"  yells  Duke.  "Why,  say— 
callin'  him  rotten  is  givin'  him  a  boost!  If 
that  big  stiff  is  an  actor,  I'm  mayor  of  Shan- 
tung! He  don't  know  if  grease  paint  is  to 
put  on  your  face  or  to  seal  letters  with,  he's 
got  the  same  faculty  of  expression  on  that 
soft  putty  map  of  his  as  an  ox  has,  he  makes 
love  like  a  wax  dummy  and  he  come  out  to 
play  'As  You  Like  It'  in  a  dress  suit!  It 
took  eight  supers  to  keep  him  away  from 
in  front  of  the  camera,  and  he  played  one 
scene  with  his  face  glued  up  against  the 
lens!" 

Just  then  Harold  himself  eases  into  view 
with  the  Kid  taggin'  along  at  his  side. 
Scanlan  is  excited  about  somethin'  and 
wavin'  his  arms,  but  Harold  still  has  that 
old  sneer  on  his  face,  and  as  they  come  up, 
I  hear  him  sayin'  this, 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  know  more  about  auc- 


1 64  KID  SCANLAN 

tion  pinochle  than  Hoyle.  At  home  I  am 
recognized  as  the  champion  card  player  of 
He  breaks  off,  when  he  sees  us,  and 
turns  to  Duke.  "Hello!"  he  calls  over. 
"Are  you  ready  to  admit  now  that  my  idea 
of  making  feature  productions  is  the  right 
one?" 

"No!"  snarls  Duke.  "But  I'll  concede 
that  as  an  actor  you're  a  crackerjack  bar- 
tender! D'ye  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  got 
away  with  that  kind  of  stuff  in  the  studios 
back  East?" 

"I  introduced  it!"  says  Harold,  proudly. 
"As  a  director  for  some  of  the  largest  film 
companies  in  the  world,  I  have  put  on  hun- 
dreds of — " 

"The  only  thing  you  ever  put  on  was 
your  hat!"  interrupts  Duke.  "And  I  bet 
that  give  you  trouble  on  account  of  the  size 
of  your  head.  I  suppose  you're  gonna  tell 
me  that  you're  also  a  scenario  writer,  a  cam- 
era man  and  the  guy  that  got  Nero's  per- 
mission to  film  the  burnin'  of  Rome,  eh?" 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         16$ 

"The  last  is  something  of  an  exaggera- 
tion," pipes  Harold,  "but  as  far  as  the  other 
things  you  mentioned  are  concerned,  I  must 
confess  that  there  are  few  people  in  the  bus- 
iness who  have  approached  me!" 

"Ain't  that  rich?"  whispers  the  Kid  to 
me.  "You  got  to  hand  it  to  this  bird!" 

"You'd  be  a  wonder  as  a  press  agent!"  I 
says  to  Harold. 

"Now  that's  odd  you  should  remark 
that,"  he  smiles.  "For,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
I  excel  in  that  field!  I  did  all  the  press 
work  for — " 

"Columbus!"  yells  Duke,  wavin'  him  off. 
"Good-by!"  he  goes  on.  "I  got  enough! 
You  got  a  liar  lookin'  like  George  Wash- 
ington!" 

Harold  looks  after  Duke  as  he  went  into 
the  office. 

"Heavens!"  he  says.  "I  can't  stand  that 
man  with  his  petty  little  jealousies  1  Now 
when  I — " 

I  don't  know  what  the  rest  of  it  was,  be- 


1 66  KID  SCANLAN 

cause  me  and  the  Kid  left  him  to  tell  it  to 
the  African  Desert. 

Well,  Genaro  bein'  afraid  to  get  in 
dutch  with  Potts,  which  accordin'  to  Har- 
old was  a  ex-roommate  of  his,  give  this  guy 
a  crack  at  everything  from  directin'  to  sup- 
in',  and  Harold  hit  .000  at  'em  all.  The 
only  thing  he  seemed  to  be  any  good  at  was 
talkin'  about  himself,  and  he  was  champion 
of  the  world  at  that!  He  was  willin'  to  con- 
cede that  Wellington  beat  Napoleon  and  it 
was  Fulton  who  doped  out  the  steamboat, 
but  he  was  the  guy  that  had  put  over  ev- 
erything else.  His  favorite  word  only  had 
one  letter  in  it,  and  that's  the  one  that  comes 
right  after  H.  No  matter  what  subject 
would  come  up  anywheres  where  Harold 
could  get  a  earful  of  it,  he  was  the  bird 
that  invented  it  I 

We  went  down  to  Montana  Joe's  one  aft- 
ernoon to  deal  prohibition  a  blow,  and  the 
Kid  gets  talkin'  about  drinkin'  as  a  art, 
carelessly  lettin'  fall  the  information  that, 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         167 

before  he  had  put  the  Demon  Rum  down  for 
the  count,  he  had  been  looked  on  as  a  cham- 
pion at  goin'  through  the  rye.  He  winks  at 
Joe  and  orders  a  tumbler  of  private  stock. 
Harold  never  bats  a  eye,  but  says  he's  got 
a  roomful  of  lovin'  cups  which  was  give 
him  for  emptyin'  bottles.  Joe  sets  down  a 
mixin'  glass  full  of  booze  before  the  Kid, 
and  Scanlan  looks  at  Harold  and  asks  Joe 
what  was  the  matter  with  the  shaker.  Har- 
old coughs  and  raps  on  the  bar.  "You  may 
let  me  have  a  seidel  of  gin!"  he  says, 
sneerin'  at  the  Kid — and  we  all  fainted! 

He  got  run  out  the  south  gate  one  after- 
noon by  a  enraged  scene  painter  for  tellin' 
the  latter  that  he  could  shut  both  eyes,  bind 
one  arm,  lay  flat  on  his  side  and  paint  a 
better  exterior  than  the  two  hundred  dol- 
lar a  week  decorator,  and  he  started  a  riot 
in  the  developin'  room  another  time  by  re- 
markin'  that  the  bunch  in  there  didn't  know 
how  to  paste  up  film — addin',  of  course, 
that  he  did.  He  tried  to  show  Van  Ayls- 


i68  KID  SCANLAN 

tyne  how  to  write  scenarios,  and  Van  Ayls- 
tyne  threatened  to  quit  cold  if  Harold 
wasn't  called  off,  and  when  he  found  fault 
with  Genaro's  lightin'  of  a  night  scene, 
Genaro  chased  him  all  over  the  place  with 
a  practical  shotgun. 

It  wouldn't  have  been  so  bad,  if  Harold 
had  come  through  on  somethin'.  If  he  had 
discovered  anything,  he  could  actually  do 
even  half  way  decent,  he  would  have  got 
away  with  murder.  But  no! — That  bird 
was  the  original  No  Good  Nathan,  from 
Useless,  Miss. 

The  fact  that  he  didn't  cause  no  sensation 
in  our  midst,  worried  Harold  about  as 
much  as  the  price  of  electric  fans  keeps 
'em  awake  in  Iceland.  There  was  only 
one  thing  Harold  was  afraid  of — and  that 
was  lockjaw! 

Then  Potts  blows  in  unexpected  one 
afternoon,  and  we  all  stood  around  to  see 
him  and  Harold  fall  on  each  other's  neck. 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         169 

In  fact,  pretty  near  everybody  in  Film  City 
watched  the  reunion  which  took  place  on 
the  edge  of  the  Street  Scene  in  Tokio — it 
was  very  afTectin'. 

Potts  comes  walkin'  along  with  three 
supers  and  Eddie  Duke  carryin'  his  suit- 
cases, when  Harold  bumps  into  the  parade 
at  the  corner.  Genaro  had  sent  him  over 
to  Frisco  for  a  lot  of  props  that  would  be 
needed  in  a  picture  he  was  puttin'  on,  and 
naturally,  now  that  Potts  was  on  hand,  he 
was  anxious  to  have  everything  O.  K.  He 
had  give  Harold  a  list  in  the  mornin'  that 
read  like  a  inventory  of  a  machine  shop, 
and  here's  friend  Harold  comin'  back  with 
nothin'  in  his  hands  but  his  fingers. 

"The  props — where  are  they?"  shrieks 
Genaro.  "Seven  hour  you  have  been  gone 
and  you  come  back  with  nothing!  Every- 
thing she'sa  ready  and  we  musta  wait  till 
you  come  with  the  props — where  are  they 
— queek?" 


170  KID  SCANLAN 

"My  dear  fellow,"  says  Harold,  bowin* 
to  Miss  Vincent,  "there  is  no  excuse  for  ad- 
dressing me  before  these  ladies  and  gentle- 
men in  that  ruffianly  manner.  I  was  un- 
able to  carry  out  your — er — orders  this 
morning,  having  overlooked  a  trifling  de- 
tail in  the  scurry  and  bustle  of  catching  that 
ungodly  early  train." 

"What!"  screams  Genaro,  doin'  a  few 
cabaret  steps.  "You  got  nothing?  Sa- 
pristi!  What  you  do — make  fun  of  me? 
Why  you  no  get  those  props?" 

"Calm  yourself!"  pipes  Harold.  "I'll 
tell  all.  I  forgot  the  list  of  articles  you 
gave  me  and— 

"Aha — he'sa  maka  me  crazee!"  yelps 
Genaro,  pullin'  a  swell  clog  step.  "Take 
heem  away  before  I  keel  heem!" 

Just  then  Potts  comes  by,  and  we  all  yell, 
"Welcome  to  Film  City,  Mr.  Potts !"  Har- 
old hears  this  and  turns  pale.  He  seen  we 
was  all  watchin'  closely  for  the  grand  reun- 
ion between  him  and  his  old  college  chum 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         171 

Potts.  He  coughs  a  couple  of  times  and 
takes  a  step  forward.  That  boy  was  game! 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Potts?"  he  says. 
"Did  you — er — have  a  pleasant  trip?" 

"Yes,"  answers  Potts,  lookin'  at  him  kinda 
puzzled.  "What  is  your  name  again?  I 
don't  seem  to  recall  it!" 

And  the  boss  was  supposed  to  be  Harold's 
dear  old  college  chum! 

"Why — er — why — ha!  ha!"  pipes  Har- 
old, dyin'  game.  "That's  odd!  Surely 
you  recall — eh — Cuthbert,  my  name  is,  you 
must  remember — eh — why  in  New  York 
we — eh — " 

He's  about  eighty  feet  up  in  the  air  and 
still  soarin',  with  the  whole  bunch  watchin' 
him  and  enjoyin'  the  thing  out  loud.  Potts 
is  lookin'  him  over  like  he's  a  strange  fish 
or  somethin'. 

"I  think  you're  mistaken!"  pipes  the  boss, 
cuttin'  in  on  Harold.  "I  never  saw  you  be- 
fore in  my  life!" 

With  that  he  passes  on,  leavin'  Harold 


172  KID  SCANLAN 

flat  and  with  no  more  friends  than  China 
had  at  the  Peace  Conference. 

After  that  little  incident,  it  was  about  as 
pleasant  for  Harold  in  Film  City  as  it  was 
for  a  German  in  Liverpool  durin'  the  war. 
Genaro,  Duke  and  everybody  else  went  out 
of  their  way  to  make  him  sick  of  the  movies, 
but  Harold  stuck  around  and  took  what- 
ever odd  jobs  that  come  his  way  with  the 
remark  that  he  could  do  it  better  than  any- 
body else  and  that  was  why  they  give  it  to 
him. 

I  made  a  mistake  when  I  said  everybody 
rode  him — he  had  three  little  pals.  They 
was  Miss  Vincent,  the  Kid  and  yours  in 
the  faith.  Miss  Vincent  claimed  that  after 
all  he  was  only  a  boy  which  would  grow 
out  of  lyin',  if  give  enough  time,  and  it  was 
a  outrage  the  way  everybody  picked  on 
him.  The  Kid  said  we  couldn't  all  be  per- 
fect, and  Miss  Vincent  would  give  him  back 
his  presents  if  he  laid  off  Harold.  My  ex- 
cuse for  not  shootin'  Harold  was  that  I  liked 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         173 

one  thing  about  him,  and  that  was  the  way 
he  hung  on,  no  matter  how  they  was  breakin' 
for  him.  He  was  no  good  all  over,  but  he 
wouldn't  quit  and  any  guy  that  could  stand 
up  under  punishment  like  he  did  is  worth 
a  cheer  any  time — and  sometimes  a  bet! 

I  thought  I'd  brighten  his  life  by  tellin' 
him  how  he  stood  with  the  three  of  us.  I 
pictured  him  goin'  down  on  his  knees  and 
thankin'  me  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  when  I 
said  that  we  was  with  him  to  the  bitter  end. 
He  must  have  had  rheumatism  or  a  pair  of 
charley  horses,  because  he  failed  to  do  any 
kneelin'  where  I  could  see  it,  and  his  eyes 
was  as  dry  as  the  middle  of  Maine.  In- 
stead of  that,  he  took  me  for  ten  bucks  and 
said  the  news  was  no  surprise  to  him.  He 
didn't  see  how  Miss  Vincent  could  miss 
likin'  him,  because  he  had  been  a  assassin 
with  the  women  from  birth.  As  for  the 
'Kid,  well,  it  was  common  talk  that  Scan- 
Ian  was  afraid  of  him,  and  I  was  nothin' 
but  a  sure-thing  player  which  knowed  he 


i74  KID  SCANLAN 

was  a  winner  and  stuck,  hopin'  I'd  cash. 

Could  you  tie  Harold? 

Van  Aylstyne,  the  guy  that  committed  the 
scenarios,  went  out  one  night  to  get  some  at- 
mosphere for  a  thriller  at  Montana  Joe's. 
He  got  the  atmosphere  O.  K.,  bringin'  most 
of  it  back  on  his  breath  and  the  Kid  asked 
him  to  stick  out  his  tongue  so  he  could  see 
was  they  any  revenue  stamps  on  it.  In  the 
mornin'  he  grabbed  a  container  of  ice  water 
and  a  pen  and  dashed  off  a  atrocity  in  five 
reels  based  on  what  atmosphere  of  Montana 
Joe's  that  was  still  with  him.  He  called  the 
thing  "The  End  of  the  World !"  Potts  says 
the  title  alone  sounded  good  enough  to  him 
to  remove  the  bumpers  from  his  bankroll 
without  lookin'  further,  addin',  in  a  loud 
aside,  that  if  the  plot  wasn't  a  knockout,  Van 
Aylstyne  could  change  the  title  to  "The  End 
of  My  Job!"  De  Vronde,  the  popular 
heart-breaker,  is  given  the  lead  opposite 
Miss  Vincent,  and,  of  course,  Kid  Scanlan 
is  to  be  dragged  in  as  a  special  feature. 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         175 

Harold  has  hypnotised  Genaro  into  lettin' 
him  take  off  a  "enter  with  others"  in  the  first 
reel.  Everything  was  ready  to  have  the 
cameras  pointed  at  it,  when  somethin'  come 
along  that  balled  it  all  up. 

Her  name  was  Gladys  O'Hara. 

Gladys  was  no  ravin'  beauty  and  I  heard 
her  say  "ain't  it"  twice,  but  she  was  one  of 
them  dames  that  the  first  flash  you  get  at 
'em  you  wonder  are  they  still  enforcin'  the 
law  against  mashers!  She  had  a  wonder- 
ful complexion  and  although  if  you  looked 
close  you  could  see  she  had  give  nature  a 
helpin'  hand,  she  did  the  retouchin'  so  well 
that  you  was  glad  she  had.  She  had  one 
of  the  latest  model,  twin-six  figures  and  she 
dressed  with  the  idea  of  givin'  the  natives 
a  treat,  even  if  she  was  takin'  chances  on 
pneumonia.  Gladys  was  the  kind  of  dame 
that  starts  the  arguments  in  the  newspapers 
on  what  is  our  offices  comin'  to,  look  how 
them  stenographers  dress! 

When  J.  Harold  Cuthbert  met  Gladys, 


176  KID  SCANLAN 

she  had  got  as  far  as  bein'  a  saleslady  in  the 
Busy  Bee,  Frisco.  She  could  have  beat  that 
with  her  eyes  closed,  but  Gladys  kept  hers 
open  and,  bein'  a  female  wise  guy,  she  knew 
who  to  eat  lunch  with  and  who  to  say,  "I 
don't  get  you!"  to — which  is  a  art!  As  a 
result,  she  had  never  got  no  further  than 
sellin'  shirtwaists  and  had  her  first  home 
to  break  up.  She  never  advanced  beyond 
that  counter — up  or  down!  Many  a  neck- 
tie salesman  had  flashed  Gladys  and  gone 
right  out  to  buy  the  tickets,  before  he  even 
asked  her  would  she  look  over  a  show, 
windin'  up  by  throwin'  'em  away  and  tellin' 
her  what  a  sweet  old  woman  his  mother  was 
and  how  strong  he  was  for  his  own  gas 
meter.  That  was  Gladys.  She  looked 
like  what  she  wasn't,  and  she  fooled  'em  all. 

All  but  Harold! 

I  found  Gladys  very  easy  to  look  at  my- 
self, and  I  helped  the  Sante  Fe  over  a  tough 
yesr  by  runnin'  over  to  Frisco  to  the  Busy 
Ike  whenever  I  could  get  away.  It  took 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         177 

me  a  short  month  to  find  out  that  I  had  the 
same  chance  of  winnin'  out  as  I'd  have  of 
gettin'  elected  King  of  Montenegro  by  ac- 
clamation, because  Harold  had  been  there 
first  and  got  in  his  deadly  work. 

I  was  standin'  in  the  next  aisle  to  where 
Gladys  held  forth,  one  afternoon,  waitin' 
for  a  couple  of  fatheads  to  call  it  a  day  and 
move  away  from  the  counter,  when  along 
comes  Harold.  As  usual,  he  was  all  dressed 
up  like  a  horse,  with  the  even  fare  back  to 
Film  City  in  them  one-way  pockets  of  his. 
He  butts  right  into  the  conversation,  and  I 
nearly  fainted  when  he  passes  a  box  of  candy 
over  to  Gladys.  Then  I  seen  the  label  on 
the  package,  and  I  revived,  because  it  was 
one  of  a  dozen  that  some  simp  had  sent 
Miss  Vincent  and  in  order  to  please  the 
Kid  she  had  give  'em  all  away.  Harold 
had  brought  his  all  the  way  over  to  Frisco 
on  a  ticket  furnished  by  the  Maudlin 
Movin'  Picture  Company,  which  sent  him 
over  for  props. 


178  KID  SCANLAN 

Well,  Harold  gets  warmed  up  and  in  a 
minute  he's  press  agentin'  himself  at  the 
rate  of  fifty-five  words  a  minute — I  clocked 
him  I  He  tells  Gladys  he's  bein'  starred  in 
"The  End  of  the  World"  and  the  amount 
of  money  they're  payin'  him  would  startle 
Europe,  if  it  ever  got  out.  He  claims  he 
made  'em  all  faint  at  the  rehearsals  and 
offers  from  other  companies  is  comin'  in  so 
fast  that  he's  got  a  charley  horse  on  his 
thumb  from  openin'  telegrams.  From  that 
he  works  into  the  fact  that  after  the  picture 
is  made  he's  gonna  run  around  Europe — 
that's  just  the  way  he  said  it,  "Run  around 
Europe !"  Oh,  -boy ! — that  bein'  the  way  he 
usually  spent  his  vacations.  When  Gladys 
staggers  over  to  wait  on  a  customer,  Harold 
charges  himself  up  again  and  when  she 
comes  back  he's  off  to  a  runnin'  start.  He 
remarks  that  his  father  has  just  made  a 
killin'  in  Wall  Street  that  has  caused  Rock- 
efeller to  weep  and  gnash  his  teeth  and  that 
the  last  affair  his  mother  give  at  Newport 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         179 

got  four  columns  on  the  front  page,  al- 
though the  mayor  of  the  town  had  been  shot 
the  same  afternoon. 

Gladys  takes  this  all  in  with  her  mouth 
as  open  as  Kelly  pool  and  her  eyes  half 
closed  and  dreamy  like  she  was  dyin'  happy. 
When  Harold  put  on  the  brakes  and  eased 
up,  she  throwed  him  a  look  that  I  would 
have  walloped  Dempsey  for.  Harold  says 
he  must  go,  because  the  picture  would  be 
ruined  if  he  wasn't  there  to  direct  it,  and 
Gladys  holds  out  a  tremblin'  hand.  Then 
Harold  plays  his  ace — he  takes  off  his  hat, 
bows,  kisses  that  hand  and  blows. 

When  I  seen  Gladys  deliberately  walk 
back  of  the  wrappin'  booth,  put  her  hand 
to  her  lips  and  kiss  it  herself — I  pulled  my 
hat  down  over  my  ears  and  went  back  to 
Film  City. 

The  next  mornin'  they  begin  work  on  the 
first  reel  of  "The  End  of  the  World,"  and 
Harold  had  a  field  day  at  bein'  rotten.  He 
got  in  everybody's  way,  ruined  twenty  feet 


i8o  KID  SCANLAN 

of  film  by  firin'  off  a  cannon  at  the  wrong 
time  and  made  Genaro  hysterical  by  gettin' 
caught  in  a  papier  mache  tower  and  pullin' 
it  down.  Not  content  with  that,  he  goes 
back  of  a  interior  to  try  out  one  of  the 
Kid's  cigarettes  and  by  simply  flickin'  the 
thing  into  a  can  of  kerosene  he  set  the 
Maudlin  Movin'  Picture  Company  back 
about  five  hundred  bucks. 

They  run  him  out  of  the  picture,  and  he 
went,  yellin'  that  it  would  be  a  farce  with- 
out him  in  it. 

About  four  o'clock  me  and  the  Kid  is 
trottin'  along  the  road  outside  of  Film  City 
like  we  did  every  day  so's  Scanlan  could 
keep  in  condition,  when  we  all  but  fell  over 
Harold.  He's  sittin'  on  a  rock  and  gazin' 
off  very  sad  in  the  general  direction  of  New 
York.  His  dashin',  smashin',  soft  hat  was 
yanked  down  over  his  home-breakin'  face, 
and  his  dimpled  chin  was  buried  in  his  lily 
white  hands.  He  looked  like  a  guy  that  has 
worked  twenty-seven  years  inventin'  a  new 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         181 

steamboat  and  then  seen  it  sink  the  first  time 
he  tried  it  out. 

The  Kid  runs  over  and  slaps  him  on  the 
back  just  hard  enough  to  make  his  hat  fall 
off. 

"Cheer  up,  Cutey!"  pipes  Scanlan. 
"They  can't  hang  a  guy  for  tryin'!" 

Harold  retrieves  his  hat,  smoothes  it  out 
carefully  and  lets  loose  the  gloomiest  sigh 
I  ever  heard  in  my  life. 

"Have  you  a  cigarette?"  he  asks  sadly. 

The  Kid  pulls  out  a  deck,  and  Harold 
takes  two,  droppin'  one  in  his  pocket. 

"Alas!"  he  remarks,  strikin'  a  match  on 
my  shoe.  "Alas!" 

"When  can  the  body  be  seen?"  asks  Scan- 
Ian.  "And  is  it  a  church  funeral  or  will 
they  pull  it  off  at  the  house?" 

"This  is  no  time  for  levity,"  mutters 
Harold.  "I'm  ruined!" 

"I  only  got  ten  bucks  with  me,"  the  Kid 
tells  him,  "but  I'll  part  with—" 

"Poof!"  sneers  Harold,  wavin'  his  hands 


1 82  KID  SCANLAN 

like  a  head  waiter.  "Money!  I  am  not  in 
need  of  that.  Why,  my  father — '  He 
breaks  off  to  take  the  bill  from  the  Kid's 
hand  and  shove  it  in  his  pocket.  "Rather 
than  offend  you!"  he  explains.  "No,"  he 
goes  on,  "this  is  a  more  serious  matter  than 
money.  I—  He  flicks  away  the  cigar- 
ette, jumps  up  off  the  rock  and  gives  us  both 
the  up  and  down.  "I  am  going  to  take  you 
two  into  my  confidence,"  he  says,  "and  per- 
haps you  will  help  me." 

"Go  on!"  encourages  the  Kid.  "I'm  all 
worked  up — shoot  it!" 

"Well,  then,"  says  Harold,  with  the  air 
of  a  guy  pleadin'  guilty  to  save  his  old  fa- 
ther. "In  the  first  place,  my  name  is  not  J. 
Harold  Cuthbert!" 

There  was  no  answer  from  us,  and  Har- 
old seemed  peeved  because  we  had  not  col- 
lapsed at  his  confession. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asks,  when  the  silence  be- 
gin to  hurt  the  ears. 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         183 

"Trout!"  pipes  Harold,  bitterly.  "Joe 
Trout!" 

"Yeh?"  says  the  Kid.  "Well,  what's  the 
matter  with  that?  What  did  you  can  it 
for?" 

"Ha,  ha!"  hisses  Harold,  with  a  "curse 
you!"  giggle.  "Where  could  a  man  get 
with  a  name  like  that?" 

"In  the  aquarium!"  yells  the  Kid.  "I 
knew  you'd  fall!" 

Harold  shakes  his  head  and  blows  him- 
self to  another  sigh. 

"Imagine  a  moving  picture  leading  man 
named  Trout!"  he  goes  on.  "I  changed 
my  name  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  movies,  for— 

"Just  a  minute!"  I  butts  in.  »  "On  the 
level  now,  where  did  you  get  your  movin' 
picture  experience?" 

"As  assistant  bookkeeper  in  a  grocery 
store!"  he  answers.  "Now  you  have  it!" 

"But  you  said  your  father  was  a  big  man 
in  Wall  Street!"  I  busts  out. 


1 84  KID  SCANLAN 

"He  is!"  answers  Harold,  lookin'  over  at 
the  Santa  Fe.  "They  don't  come  any  big- 
ger. He's  a  traffic  policeman  at  the  corner 
of  Broadway  and  Wall  Street  and  stands  six 
foot  four  in  his  socks!" 

"Sweet  Cookie!"  shouts  the  Kid,  and  falls 
off  the  rock. 

When  we  recover  from  that,  Harold  has 
smoked  the  other  cigarette,  and  he  nods  for 
my  box.  Then  he  asks  us  do  we  want  to 
hear  the  rest. 

"If  you  don't  tell  it,"  says  the  Kid,  "you'll 
never  leave  here  alive!  Hurry  up,  I'm 
dyin'  to  hear  it!" 

"Well,"  says  the  ex-J.  Harold  Cuthbert, 
"I  am  about  to  be  married  and  at  the  elev- 
enth hour  Nemesis  has  gripped  me.  I  told 
my  fiancee  that  I  was  being  featured  in  'The 
End  of  the  World'  and  that  it  would  be  ex- 
ceedingly easy  for  me  to  get  her  a  part  in 
the  picture — she  having  expressed  a  desire 
to  that  effect  at  various  times.  She  will  be 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         185 

here  within  the  hour  to  watch  me  being 
filmed  and  to  hold  me  to  my  promise  to 
place  her  as  leading  woman  opposite  me." 
He  stops  and  moans.  "Gentlemen,"  he 
goes  on,  "picture  for  yourself  the  contre- 
temps when  she  finds  I  am  nothing  but  a 
super  and  that  Genaro  wouldn't  give  Sarah 
Bernhardt  a  job  on  a  recommendation  from 
me!  My  romance  will  be  shattered,  and 
the — the  humiliation  will  kill  me!" 

There  was  a  heavy  silence  for  a  minute, 
and  then  the  Kid  whistles. 

"Well,  pal,"  he  says,  "you  have  certainly 
balled  things  up  a  few,  haven't  you?" 

Joe  Trout  just  let  loose  another  moan. 

"Gimme  one  of  them  good  cigarettes!" 
pipes  the  Kid  to  me.  He  lights  it  and 
looks  over  at  friend  Joe.  "The  first  thing," 
he  says,  puffin'  away;  "the  first  thing,  is 
this — just  how  much  do  you  think  of  this 
dame,  all  jokes  aside?" 

Joe  turns  around  and  straightens  up,  for 


1 86  KID  SCANLAN 

once  in  his  life  lookin'  like  the  real  thing. 

"I  love  her!"  he  says.  That  was  all — 
but  the  way  he  pulled  it  was  a  plenty! 

The  Kid  grunts  and  tosses  away  the  pill. 
Then  he  walks  over  to  Joe  and  slaps  him 
on  the  back. 

"Listen!"  he  says.  "You  ain't  a  bad  guy 
at  that.  I'm  gonna  give  you  somethin'  I 
never  took  in  my  life — advice!  Why  don't 
you  lay  off  lyin'  about  yourself,  kid?  Why 
don't  you  can  that  four-flush  thing?" 

The  effect  of  them  simple  words  on  Joe 
was  remarkable.  He  swung  around  on  us 
so  quick  that  we  both  ducked,  thinkin'  he 
was  comin'  back  with  a  wallop — but  his 
hands  was  sunk  so  deep  in  his  coat  pockets 
they  liked  to  pushed  through  the  linin'  and 
his  face  was  as  hard  and  white  as  an  iceberg. 

"Because!"  he  shoots  out  through  his 
teeth.  "Because  I  can't!" 

Y'know  the  change  was  so  sudden,  I  re- 
member lettin'  out  a  little  nervous  laugh, 
and  then  sidesteppin'  a  vicious  left  the  Kid 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         187 

sent  at  me.  Scanlan  had  turned  as  serious 
as  the  other  guy. 

"What  d'ye  mean,  you  can't?"  he  says, 
grabbin'  Joe  by  the  arm  and  holdin'  him 
fast.  Joe's  face  showed  how  hard  he  was 
fightin'  to  keep  from  fallin'  apart. 

"You  won't  understand!"  he  answers  in  a 
hard  voice.  "But  I'll  tell  you.  The  thing 
has  grown  upon  me  until  I  cannot  shake  it 
off!  I  guess  I  was  born  a  liar  and  probably 
four-flushed  my  nurse  when  I  was  three  days 
old.  When  I  was  a  boy,  my  incessant  ly- 
ing, although  it  harmed  no  one  but  myself, 
kept  me  in  countless  scrapes.  As  I  grew 
older,  the  habit  grew  stronger  and  I  lost 
girls,  jobs,  friends  and  opportunities  with 
breath-taking  rapidity.  Time  after  time  I 
have  sworn  to  rid  myself  of  the  thing  and 
speak  nothing  but  the  undiluted  truth,  and 
the  first  time  I  open  my  mouth  I  find  my- 
self unconsciously  telling  the  most  astound- 
ing falsehoods  about  myself  with  an  ease 
that  nauseates  me!"  He  tore  himself  loose 


1 88  KID  SCANLAN 

from  the  Kid  and  kicked  a  innocent  to- 
mato can  down  the  canyon.  "I  know  I'm 
nothing  but  a  big  four-flusher,"  he  winds 
up,  "and  I  can't  help  it!" 

Right  then  and  there  I  warmed  up  to  Joe 
Trout  like  I  never  had  before.  After  all, 
Miss  Vincent  had  the  right  dope — he  was 
nothin'  but  a  big  kid  at  that,  and  any  guy 
that  will  come  right  out  in  public  and  ad- 
mit he's  a  false  alarm,  deserves  creditl 

"Well,"  he  says  after  a  minute,  "I  sup- 
pose you're  both  through  with  me  now,  eh?" 

"Do  I  look  like  a  quitter?"  demands  the 
Kid. 

"I'm  still  here,  ain't  I?"  I  chimes  in. 

Joe  coughs  and  took  hold  of  our  hands. 

"Thanks!"  he  mutters.     "And  now—" 

"Listen!"  interrupts  the  Kid.  "I  got  the 
whole  thing  doped  out.  When  is  this  dame 
of  yours  due  to  hit  Film  City?" 

"She'll  be  here  on  that  one  o'clock  train," 
moans  Joe. 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         189 

"Fine!"  says  the  Kid.  "Now  get  this! 
De  Vronde  is  supposed  to  do  a  fall  from  a 
horse  in  'The  End  of  the  World'  and  the 
big  yellow  bum  won't  do  it.  They're 
lookin'  for  some  guy  that  will  take  his  place, 
just  for  that  one  flash,  see?  Now  suppose 
I  fix  it  so  you  get  that  chance  and  when 
the  dame  comes  on,  there  you  are  playin' 
the  lead  as  far  as  she  can  see,  in  the  best  part 
of  the  frolic.  How's  that?" 

I  thought  Joe  was  gonna  kiss  him! 

"I'll  never  forget  it!"  he  hollers.  "You 
have  saved  my  life !  What  can  I  do  to  re- 
pay you?" 

"Stop  four-flushing,"  comes  back  the 
Kid,  "and  be  on  the  level!" 

"I'll  do  it,  if  it  kills  me!"  promises  Joe — > 
and  I  don't  know  whether  he  meant  the  fall 
or  the  other. 

"Can  you  ride  a  horse?"  the  Kid  asks 
him  as  we  start  back. 

"Can  /  ride  a  horse?"  repeats  Joe,  stop- 


1 90  KID  SCANLAN 

pin'  short.  "What  a  question!  Why  at 
home  I  was  the  champion — " 

"Now,  now!"  butts  in  the  Kid.  "There 
you  go  again!" 

"Pardon  me!"  says  Joe,  gettin'  red — and 
he  quits! 

Well,  the  Kid  fixed  it  all  right,  so's  Joe 
could  double  for  De  Vronde  in  that  one 
place  where  he  did  the  fall.  I  don't  know 
how  he  did  it  any  more  than  I  know  how 
Edison  come  to  think  of  the  phonograph, 
but  he  did!  All  my  suspicions  as  to  who 
the  dame  was  come  true  when  Gladys  hops 
off  the  one  o'clock  train  that  afternoon.  I 
seen  her  talkin'  to  Eddie  Duke  near  the 
African  Desert,  and  I  immediately  went 
scoutin'  around  for  Joe,  because  Eddie  liked 
him  the  same  way  the  brewers  is  infatuated 
with  the  Anti-Saloon  League  and  I  knowed 
if  Eddie  got  a  chance  to  harpoon  Joe  with 
Gladys,  he'd  do  that  thing. 

About  half  a  hour  later,  Genaro  asks  me 
to  go  over  and  find  Potts,  because  they're 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         191 

ready  to  start  shootin'  the  picture  and 
when  I  got  near  the  hotel  I  seen  a  couple  of 
people  blockin'  the  little  narrow  passage  in 
back  of  it.  They  was  Gladys  O'Hara  and 
Joe  Trout  and  when  I  got  close  up  I  heard 
Joseph  talkin'.  He  was  goin'  like  a  house 
on  fire  and  his  little  old  lyin'  apparatus  was 
hittin'  on  all  cylinders  and  runnin'  smooth 
without  a  break.  He  explains  to  Gladys 
that  he  went  on  only  in  the  important  part  of 
the  picture  which  she  would  see  in  a  min- 
ute, and  that  De  Vronde  was  only  one  of 
the  cheap  help  who  played  the  part  while 
he  was  restin'  for  the  big  scene.  As  soon 
as  that  come  up — and  he  said  the  whole  pic- 
ture was  built  around  it — they  give  De 
Vronde  the  gate  and  in  went  the  darin'  Joe. 
He  was  all  dressed  up  in  a  Stetson  hat,  a 
cute  little  yellow  silk  handkerchief  twisted 
around  his  manly  neck  and  more  chaps  than 
any  cow  puncher  ever  wore  on  his  legs  out- 
side of  a  movie.  He  looked  like  what  he'd 
liked  to  have  been. 


i92  KID  SCANLAN 

" — and  not  only  that,"  he  winds  up,  "but 
they  are  going  to  feature  my  name  on  all 
the  advertising  for  the  picture!" 

"Is  that  all?"  asks  Gladys  in  a  queer  little 
voice. 

Joe  looked  surprised.  I  guess  it  was  the 
first  time  anybody  had  asked  for  more! 

"Well — no!"  he  starts  off  again  briskly. 
"Of  course,  I  am— 

"Wait!"  says  Gladys,  grabbin'  his  arm. 
"Don't  tell  me  any  more  lies!  They  are 
not  featuring  you  in  this  or  any  other  pic- 
ture! You  are  not  the  leading  man,  you 
are  only  a  super!  Your  father  is  not  a 
millionaire  and  you  cannot  get  me  a  job 
with  the  Maudlin  Moving  Picture  Com- 
pany! You're  simply  a  big  four-flusher 
(and  that  lets  you  out!" 

Say!  On  the  level,  I  thought  Joe  was 
gonna  pass  away  on  his  feet!  If  I  was  give 
to  faintin',  I'd  have  been  stretched  out  cold, 
myself.  He  got  white  and  then  he  got  red, 
then  he  got  white  again  and  red  again  for 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         193 

fully  a  minute.  He  tried  eighteen  times  by 
actual  count  to  say  something  but  that  well 
known  tongue  of  his  had  laid  down  at  last 
and  quit!  He  couldn't  even  raise  a  whis- 
per. 

"I  knew  you  were  four-flushin'  the  first 
time  you  started  to  hand  me  that  stuff  I" 
goes  on  Gladys,  sweetly.  "I  happen  to 
know  the  folks  here,  includin'  the  leadin7 
man,  De  Vronde.  He  was  hangin'  around 
that  shirtwaist  counter  before  you  knew 
whether  they  made  pictures  here  or  sponge 
cake.  Also,  some  of  your  friends  come  over 
from  time  to  time  and  tipped  me  off  about 
you,  so  that  I  was  all  set  when  you  started!" 

Joe  whirls  around  on  her  at  that,  and  al- 
though this  bird  had  beat  me  to  the  wire 
with  Gladys,  I  felt  sorry  for  him  right  then. 
The  poor  kid  was  hangin'  on  the  ropes 
waitin'  for  somebody  to  throw  in  the  sponge. 

"If  you  knew  all  that,"  he  says,  kinda 
choked,  "why — why  did  you  let  me  come 
over  and  continue  to — to  mislead  you?" 


i94  KID  SCANLAN 

Gladys  coughs  and  places  three  or  four 
stray  hairs  exactly  back  of  her  little  white 
ear,  gazin'  at  her  wrist  watch  like  it's  the 
first  time  she  ever  seen  one,  and  she's  won- 
derin'  can  it  really  go.  The  big  boob 
stands  there  lookin'  at  her  and  the  chance 
of  a  couple  of  lifetimes  is  slippin'  away. 
What?  Say,  listen!  I  don't  know  much 
about  women — fighters  is  my  line — but 
there  was  a  look  on  Gladys's  face  that  I'd 
seen  Genaro  work  two  hours  one  time  to 
put  on  Miss  Vincent's  when  they  was  takin' 
a  big  picture.  So  you  can  figure  she  wasn't 
registerin'  hate! 

"Well,  why?"  demands  Joe  again. 

"This  stuff  is  all  new  to  me,"  says  Gladys, 
with  a  sigh,  "but  I  guess  I've  got  to  do  it!" 
She  gazes  at  the  ground  and  gets  kinda  red. 
"It  was  not  your  conversation  that  made  the 
hit  with  me!"  she  winds  up  softly. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand,"  pipes 
Senseless  Joe. 

"Heavens!"  remarks  Gladys.     "There's 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         195- 

enough  concrete  between  your  neck  and 
your  hat  to  build  a  bridge  over  the  bay!  I 
can  safely  say  you're  the  first  man  I  ever 
proposed  to,  but  somebody's  got  to  do  it  and 
I  guess  I'm  the  goat!" 

"What!"  screams  Joe,  comin'  to  life 
at  last.  "You  —  you  —  forgive  —  you- 
The  poor  simp  gets  all  excited  and  once 
again  he  can't  talk  and — I  don't  blame  him. 
You  never  seen  Gladys,  and  you  don't  know 
how  she  looked  right  then! 

"Say!"  says  Gladys.  "Am  I  bein'  kidded 
or—" 

Joe  might  have  been  a  tramp  as  a  movie 
lover,  but  take  it  from  me,  as  the  real  thing 
he  was  no  slouch!  I  hadda  stand  there  and 
watch  it,  because  I  couldn't  get  past  till 
they  got  away  and  if  they'd  ever  seen  me, 
I  guess  Joe  would  have  bought  a  gun.  Fi- 
nally, they  break,  Gladys  pushin'  Joe 
away  and  holdin'  him  off. 

"You've  got  to  promise  me  you'll  stop 
lyin'  and  four-flushin' !"  she  tells  him. 


196  KID  SCANLAN 

"Tell  the  truth  and  don't  kid  yourself  that 
you'd  have  been  President,  if  you  hadn't 
been  jobbed.  That  stuff  is  poor  and  will 
get  you  nowheres.  Make  good  and  you 
won't  have  to  tell  anybody  about  it — it'll  be 
in  the  papers!  As  far  as  I  can  see,  the  best 
thing  about  you  right  now  is  ME!  If  you 
can't  get  over  with  that,  I'll  see  that  you 
do!" 

"We'll  get  married  to-night!"  yelps  Joe. 
"There's  a  minister  in  Film  City  and— 

"Don't  crowd  me!"  interrupts  Gladys, 
lettin'  herself  be  kissed.  "Do  you  prom- 
ise?" 

"Anything!"  grins  Joe. 

"Just  what  are  you  supposed  to  do  in  this 
picture?"  she  asks  him. 

"Fall  off  a  horse!"  says  Joe. 

"Is  that  all?"  asks  Gladys. 

Joe  nods. 

"Well,"  Gladys  tells  him,  "you  won't  do 
it!  I  don't  want  no  crippled  bridegroom 
at  my  weddin'.  Now  listen  to  me!  If  you 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         1973 

could  write  that  stuff  you've  been  wastin' 
on  the  air  around  here,  you  ought  to  make 
a  pretty  good  press  agent.  Mr.  Potts,  the 
man  who  owns  the  company  and  the  fellow 
you  or  your  father  never  palled  around 
with,  has  a  man  on  his  payroll  named 
Struther.  He's  head  of  what  they  call  the 
publicity  department,  it  says  so  on  ten  of 
his  cards  I  have.  He  once  claimed  he'd  do 
anything  for  me  in  such  a  loud  voice  that 
the  floorwalker  had  to  speak  to  him.  I'm 
goin'  over  to  the  office  now  and  ask  him  to 
give  you  a  job  back  in  New  York.  To  be 
perfectly  truthful  with  you,  that's  what  I 
came  over  here  for  to-day  in  the  first  place  P' 

"But — but,"  stammers  Joe.  "I  can't 
have  you  asking  favors  for  me,  Gladys,  and 
— and,  why  New  York?" 

"Because,"  she  says,  "that's  where  I  come 
from,  and  I  want  to  look  at  it  again — I'm 
simply  crazy  to  yell  down  a  dumbwaiter 
and  throw  a  quarter  in  my  own  gas  meter  I" 

Well — that's  about  all.     They  had  a  big 


i98  KID  SCANLAN 

weddin'  right  in  the  middle  of  Film  City 
and  everybody  sent  in  and  bought  'em  a 
present.  Potts  got  a  flash  at  Gladys,  moans 
regretfully  and  has  the  ceremony  filmed, 
givin'  the  result  to  Joe  as  a  special  gift.  Of 
course  Gladys  got  Joe  that  job.  That  dame 
could  have  got  frankfurters  and  sourkraut 
in  Buckin'ham  Palace!  Before  they  left 
for  New  York,  I  tried  Joe  out. 

"It'll  be  terrible  here,  when  you're  gone!" 
I  says,  "because  you  know  more  about 
makin'  movies  than  Rockefeller  does  about 
oil." 

Joe  shakes  his  head  and  grins. 

"No!"  he  says.  "I  guess  I  don't  know 
much  about  anything!" 

I  pronounced  him  cured  to  myself  and 
shook  his  hand.  The  Kid  went  to  the  train 
with  him  and  his  bride.  I  didn't  feel  up  to 
seein'  that  guy  goin'  away  with  Gladys. 

I  met  the  Kid  as  he  was  comin'  up  from 
the  railroad  station,  and  seein'  he  was 


LEND  ME  YOUR  EARS         199 

laughin',  I  asked  him  if  the  happy  pair  got 
off  all  right. 

"Yehl"  he  says.  "Everything  went  fine. 
Me  and  Miss  Vincent  waited  till  the  train 
was  pullin'  out.  Gladys  was  inside  and  Joe 
was  standin'  on  the  steps  of  the  Pullman, 
talkin'.  Just  before  the  thing  pulled  out, 
I  shook  Joe's  hand  and  said  I  hoped  he  got 
past  in  New  York,  because  it  was  a  big 
burg  and  a  tough  one  for  losers."  The  Kid 
stops  and  laughs  some  more. 

"Well,"  I  says,  "what's  the  joke?" 

"Sweet  Papa!"  says  the  'Kid,  wipin'  his 
eyes.  "Joe's  face  lights  all  up  and  that  old 
glitter  comes  back  in  his  eyes ! 

"  'Make  good?'  he  yells  to  me.  Well, 
I  ought  to  make  good — my  father  owns  half 
the  town,  and  I  was  the  biggest  thing  in  it 
when  I  leftl' " 


CHAPTER  V, 

"EXIT,   LAUGHING" 

T^VERY  time  I  see  one  of  them  big,  fat, 
-*-'  dignified  guys  that  looks  like  they 
have  laid  somebody  eight  to  five  they  can  go 
through  life  without  smilin'  once,  I  wonder 
just  how  much  they'd  give  in  American 
money  to  be  able  to  put  on  a  suit  of  pink  pa- 
jamas and  walk  down  Fifth  Avenue  some 
crowded  afternoon,  leadin'  a  green  elephant 
by  a  string! 

I'll  bet  they's  many  a  bank  president, 
brigadier-general  and  what  not,  that  would 
part  with  their  right  eye  if  they  could  only 
force  themselves  to  let  down  for  five  min- 
utes, can  this  dignity  thing  and  give  a  imi- 
tation of  what  a  movie  comedian  thinks  is 
humor.  The  best  proof  of  this  is  that  the 
first  chance  any  of  them  birds  gets — that's 
just  what  they  do! 


200 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  201 

Y'know,  you've  seen  in  the  papers  lots  of 
times  where  Archibald  Van  Hesterfeld  has 
been  among  the  starters  in  the  bazaar  for 
the  relief  of  the  heat  prostration  victims  in 
Iceland,  or  words  to  that  effect.  Or,  if  it 
wasn't  Archibald  it  might  have  been  Gen- 
eral Galumpus  or  Commodore  Fedink — or 
all  of  them.  Away  down  at  the  bottom  of 
the  page,  if  it's  a  copy  of  the  Succotash 
Crossing  Bugle,  or  right  vip  in  the  headlines, 
if  it's  a  big  town  sheet,  after  readin'  what 
dignity  and  so  forth  the  "distinguished 
guests  lent  to  the  affair,"  you'll  see  that  at 
midnight  they  was  large  doin's  on  the  dance 
floor.  It  is  even  bein'  whispered  around 
that  the  general,  commodore  or  governor 
fox-trotted  with  the  girls  from  the  Follies 
and  one-stepped  with  such  of  the  fair  sex  as 
cared  practically  nothin'  for  the  neighbors. 
Along  about  the  time  the  milkman  was 
sayin',  "Well,  here's  another  day!",  the 
well  known  distinguished  guests  was  actin* 
like  a  guy  who  knows  a  Harvard  man  does, 


202  KID  SCANLAN 

after  they  have  beat  Yale  or  vice  versa. 

One  of  them  birds  acts  so  dignified  at 
the  office  all  day  that  not  even  the  most 
darin'  of  his  clerks  would  think  of  a  joke  in 
the  same  room  with  him.  He'll  breeze 
home  on  baby's  birthday  with  a  trick  lion  or 
a  jumpin'  jack  for  the  kid,  and  spend  three 
or  four  hours  on  the  dinin'-room  floor 
makin'  it  go,  while  friend  infant  wishes  to 
Heaven  father  w^jld  call  it  a  day  and  com- 
mence readin'  the  papers,  so's  he  could  toy 
with  it  for  a  while. 

The  rest  of  the  family  stands  around  and 
tells  each  other  that  the  old  man  must  have 
a  good  heart  at  that,  because  look  how  he 
goes  out  of  his  way  to  amuse  the  baby.  Fa- 
ther growls  up  at  'em  and  prays  that  they'll 
all  go  to  bed,  includin'  the  one  that's  just 
learnin'  to  walk,  so's  he  can  be  let  alone  to 
really  enjoy  the  thing  himself! 

We're  all  babies  at  heart,  and  the  reason 
most  of  us  don't  admit  it  and  give  in  to  our 
childish  desires  is  because  we're  afraid  the 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  203 

people  in  the  next  flat  will  think  we're  nutty 
or  have  found  a  way  to  beat  prohibition. 
Now  and  then  some  extry  brave  guy  sneers 
at  the  neighbors  and  lets  himself  loose,  and 
shortly  afterward  a  committee  is  appointed 
to  look  after  his  money.  Finally,  he  is 
shipped  f.  o.  b.  to  some  sanitarium  where  a 
passin'  nod  from  the  head  doctor  is  listed  at 
twenty-five  bucks  and  where  the  victim  is 
fed  strange  foods  and  tucked  in  bed  at  the 
devilish  hour  of  nine. 

This  is  naturally  very  discouragin'  to  the 
rest  of  us  which  was  about  to  tear  loose  our- 
selves, so  we  sigh,  growl  at  the  universe — 
and  lay  off! 

I  feel  sorry  for  the  guys  that  have  to  have 
their  comedy  served  up  to  them  in  disguise, 
like  lobster  a  la  Newburg,  for  instance. 
These  birds  claim  they  like  stuff  you  got  to 
study  for  five  minutes  before  you  get  it,  and 
then  at  a  given  signal  you  pull  a  nice  lady- 
like laugh,  the  while  remarking  "How 
subtle!"  You  don't  want  to  cackle  too 


2041  KID  SCANLAN 

loud  or  the  people  across  the  hall  will  get 
the  idea  that  you're  a  tribe  of  lowbrows, 
and  it'll  get  said  around  that  your  great- 
grandfather was  known  to  go  in  hysterics 
over  the  funny  sheet  of  the  Sunday  papers! 

They  think  the  vaudeville  or  movie  cut- 
up  that  does  the  funny  falls  is  a  vulgar  lun- 
atic who  ought  to  be  in  jail,  and  their  idea 
of  the  height  of  humor  is  the  way  a  iceman 
pronounces  decollete,  or  somethin'  like  that. 

I  like  my  own  comedy  straight!  I  want 
it  to  wallop  me  right  on  the  laugher,  so's  I 
can  get  it  the  first  time  and  giggle  myself 
sick.  I'm  extry  strong  for  the  loud  and 
common  guffaw,  and  I  claim  that  because  I 
go  into  hysterics  over  the  fat-man-on-the- 
banana-peel  stuff,  it  don't  prove  that  I'm  a 
heavy  drinker,  beat  my  wife  and  will  prob- 
ably wind  up  in  jail.  On  general  princi- 
ples I'm  infatuated  with  the  bird  that  can 
make  me  laugh,  and  I  don't  care  how  he 
does  it  as  long  as  he  makes  good.  I  care 
not  whether  he  laughs  with  me  or  for  me, 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  205 

as  long  as  they's  a  snicker  in  there  some- 
wheres.  I  can  even  stand  him  laughin'  at 
me,  because,  if  his  stuff  is  funny  enough — 
I'll  laugh  too! 

No  guy  who  can  look  around  him,  no 
matter  how  things  is  breakin'  for  him  and 
see  somethin'  to  laugh  at  as  the  mob  goes  by, 
is  beat.  That  bird  is  just  gettin'  ready  to 
pull  a  new  punch  from  somewheres  and  he's 
the  baby  you  want  to  watch!  The  guy  that 
can't  see  nothin'  funny  in  life,  whether  he's 
eight  or  eighty,  is  through! 

Me  and  Kid  Scanlan  saved  one  of  them 
guys.  His  name  was  Jason  Van  Ness. 

I  was  sittin'  in  Genaro's  office  one  after- 
noon about  seven  or  eight  months  after  me 
and  the  Kid  had  decided  to  give  the  movies 
a  boost,  when  the  door  opens  and  in  comes 
a  guy  which  at  first  glance  I  figured  must 
at  least  be  the  governor  of  the  state.  He's 
there  with  a  cane,  a  high  hat  and  the  gen- 
eral makeup  of  a  Wall  Street  broker  in  a 
play  where  he  won't  forgive  his  son  for 


206  KID  SCANLAN 

marryin'  the  ingenue.  Also,  he's  built  all 
over  like  a  heavyweight  champ,  except  his 
face,  the  same  runnin'  to  the  dignified  lines 
of  the  bloodhounds,  them  big,  flabby,  over- 
lappin'  jaws — get  me? 

"I  say,  old  chap — are  you  Mister  Gen- 
aro?"  he  pipes. 

"Nope!"  I  says.  "I'm  Johnny  Green, 
manager  of  Kid  Scanlan,  welterweight 
champion  of  the  world." 

"Really!"  he  remarks. 

"Well,"  I  says,  "d'ye  wanna  see  the  con- 
tract or  will  we  go  over  to  a  notary  so's  I 
can  swear  to  it?" 

At  that  he  frowns  and  waves  a  finger  at 
me. 

"Come,  my  man,"  he  says,  "no  chaffing 
now!  You  may  tell  Mister  Genaro  I  have 
arrived!  Of  course  you  know  who  I  am?" 

That  "my  man!"  thing  was  a  trifle  more 
than  I  could  take!  I  throws  my  feet  up 
on  Genaro's  desk  and  give  this  guy  a  long. 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  207 

careless  once  over,  puttin'  everything  I  had 
on  the  stare. 

"I  ain't  got  no  more  idea  who  you  are," 
I  tells  him  finally,  "than  a  oyster  has  of 
roller-skatin'.  Who  are  you?  I  never 
seen  your  face  on  no  postage  stamps!" 

"Oh,  I  say!"  he  busts  out,  registerin'  wild 
indignation.  "Don't  you  ever  read  the 
newspapers?" 

"Sure!"  I  says.  "But  then,  escapin'  con- 
victs don't  get  much  space  in  'em  any  morel 
At  that,  I  think  I  know  you  now,  though." 

"I  should  think  you  jolly  well  would!"  he 
comes  back,  calmin'  down  some.  "Why — " 

"Yes!"  I  goes  on.  "I  got  you.  I've  met 
so  many  from  your  lodge  it's  funny  I  didn't 
recognize  the  high  signs  right  away. 
You're  a  big,  tinhorn  four-flusher  1" 

Sweet  Cookie! 

His  face  did  a  Georgie  Cohan,  gettin' 
red,  white  and  blue  by  turns,  and  he  pawed 
the  air,  gaspin'  for  breath  like  a  fat  piano 


208  KID  SCANLAN 

mover.  Before  he  can  get  set  for  a  come- 
back, they's  a  loud  crash  outside  the  door, 
followed  by  the  well  known  dull  thud.  In 
another  minute  Kid  Scanlan  walks  in,  drag- 
gin'  somethin'  after  him  by  the  back  of  the 
neck. 

"Look  what  I  found!"  chirps  the  Kid, 
droppin'  the  thing  on  the  floor. 

"By  Jove!"  squeals  the  big  guy.  "He's 
killed  my  dresser!" 

I  got  up  from  the  chair  and  took  a  flash. 
Sure  enough,  the  thing  the  Kid  had  dragged 
in  was  a  human  bein'.  He  was  a  long,  lean 
guy,  lookin'  like  he'd  been  over  here  about 
long  enough  to  tell  the  judge  that  George 
.Washington  discovered  America,  was  presi- 
dent now  and  stopped  the  Civil  War,  and 
can  he  please  have  his  first  papers,  so's  he 
can  vote  against  suffrage. 

His  one  good  eye  opens  and  examines  the 
room.  Then  he  hops  off  the  floor,  shoots 
a  hand  inside  his  pocket  and  yanks  it  out 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  209 

with  a  thing  that  looked  like  a  undevel- 
oped spear. 

"SapristiF'  he  remarks  loudly — and 
makes  a  dive  at  the  Kid. 

The  chair  I  throwed  at  him  was  wasted, 
because  Scanlan  stepped  aside  and  flattened 
the  assassin  with  a  left  hook  to  the  jaw. 
The  big  guy  gives  one  yell  and  rushes  out 
of  the  office. 

"Who's  your  friend?"  I  asks  the  Kid, 
pointin'  to  the  sleepin'  beauty  on  the  floor. 

The  Kid  glares  down  at  the  body  and 
prods  it  with  his  foot. 

"The  big  stiff!"  he  says.  "I  should  have 
murdered  him!" 

"Well,"  I  tells  him  soothin'ly,  "it  ain't 
too  late  yet!  What  started  the  melee?" 

He  sits  on  the  side  of  the  desk  and  lights 
a  cigarette. 

"This  hick  is  standin'  outside  here,"  he 
begins,  "when  I  come  along  as  peaceful  as 
the  Swiss  navy.  I  see  right  away  he's  a 


2io  KID  SCANLAN 

Eyetalian,  and  I'm  anxious  to  show  him  I 
can  talk  his  chatter  so— 

"Wait  a  minute!"  I  butts  in.  "Since 
when  have  you  been  able  to  speak  Eyetal- 
ian?" 

"What?"  he  snorts.  "Another  one,  eh? 
Ain't  Miss  Vincent  been  teachin'  me  Eng- 
lish, French,  Eyetalian  and  what  to  do  witfi 
the  oyster  fork?" 

"Is  she?"  I  comes  back.  "That's  all  new 
to  me.  The  last  flash  I  got  you  was  just 
takin'  up  how  to  enter  a  rooml" 

"Well,  I'm  past  that,"  he  explains,  "and 
next  week  I  begin  on  manners.  Anyhow, 
I  see  this  boob  standin'  there,  and  I  says  to 
myself,  here's  a  chance  to  pull  a  little  Eye- 
talian. So  with  that  I  stands  in  front  of 

him  and  says,  'Bomb  Germo,  Senorita — a 
vostrican  salute!' J 

The  Kid  stops  and  bangs  his  fist  down  on 
the  table. 

"What  d'ye  think  the  big  hick  said?"  he 
asks  me. 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  211 

I  passed. 

"He  grins  at  me,  waggles  his  shoulders 
and  pipes,  Wo  spika  da  Engleesh!' 

"  What  d'ye  mean  English?'  I  says. 
'That  ain't  English,  that's  Eyetalian,  Stu- 
pid! Bomb  Germo  Senorita!' 

"  'No  spika  da  Engleesh,'  he  pipes  again. 

"I  grabs  him  by  the  shoulder  and  swing 
him  around. 

"  What  part  of  Italy  was  you  born  in?* 
I  inquires.  'Hoboken?' 

"  'No  spika  da  Engleesh!'  he  grins. 

"By  this  time  my  goat  was  runnin' 
around  wild.  I  grabbed  his  other  shoulder 
and  looked  him  in  the  eye. 

"  'I'll  give  you  one  more  chance,'  I  says; 
'cut  the  comedy  now  and  come  through  or 
you're  gonna  have  some  bad  luck.  Bomb 
Germo  Senorita!' 

"  'No  spika  da  Engleesh!'  he  says. 

"With  that,  havin'  took  all  a  human  bein' 
could  stand,  I  let  him  fall!" 

"Just  a  minute!"  I  says,  as  Scanlan  starts 


212  KID  SCANLAN 

for  the  door.  "I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion about  the  Eyetalian  language,  as  long 
as  you  know  so  much  about  it.  Just  what 
does  Bomb  Germo  mean?" 

The  Kid  stops  and  scratches  his  chin. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  admits,  "I 
don't  know!" 

At  that  the  door  opens  and  in  blows  Gen- 
aro  with  the  big  dignified  guy  and  "Bomb 
Germo"  arises  from  the  floor  again,  rubbin' 
the  back  of  his  head. 

"What's  a  mat?"  asks  Genaro,  lookin* 
very  excited  from  me  to  the  Kid.  "Why 
you  knock  him  down  Meester  Van  Ness  bu- 
reau?" 

"Dresser  1"  corrects  Van  Ness,  puttin'  a 
round  piece  of  glass  over  one  eye  and  glarin* 
at  us. 

" 'Scuse  a  me!"  pipes  Genaro,  makin'  a 
bow.  "Why  you  knock  him  down  Meester 
Van  Ness  dresser?" 

The  Kid  growls  at  "Bomb  Germo"  who 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  215 

hisses  back  at  him  like  a  snake  and  backs 
out  of  range  of  that  left. 

"I  asked  him  'Bomb  Germo'"  explains 
Scanlan,  "and  he  started  to  kid  me!" 

"Bomb  Germo?  Bomb  Germo?"  re- 
peats Genaro.  "What  is  she  that  Bomb 
Germo?" 

Scanlan  grunts  at  him  in  disgust. 

"You're  a  fine  Eyetalian,  you  are!"  he 
snorts.  "I'll  bet  you  and  that  other  guy 
don't  know  whether  spaghetti  is  a  out- 
fielder or  a  race  horse!" 

Van  Ness  removes  the  one-cylinder  eye- 
glass for  a  minute  and  cleans  it  with  his 
"for  display  only"  handkerchief. 

"Maybe,"  he  remarks.  "Maybe  the  fel- 
low means  to  say  'Buona  Juernof J 

"Oh!"  grins  Genaro.  "Si!  He'sa  mean 
'Good  morning!'  No?" 

"Yes!"  says  the  Kid.  "Correct!  Step  to 
the  head  of  the  class.  I  told  that  to  Stupid 
there  and  he  says,  'No  spika  da  Engleesh !' ' 


2i4  KID  SCANLAN 

"Well,"  chirps  Genaro,  pattin'  the  Kid 
on  the  back,  "let's  all  be  the  friend  now, 
no?  What's  the  use  hava  the  fight?"  He 
turns  to  Van  Ness  and  takes  his  hand, 
"Meester  Van  Ness,"  he  goes  on,  "thisa 
Meester  Kid  Scanlan.  He'sa  tougha  nut 
—but  nica  fel'.  He'sa  fighting  champion 
of  the  world.  He'sa  taka  his  fista  so"  he 
stops  and  waves  his  arms  around,  "every- 
body she'sa  falla  down!"  He  swings 
around  on  the  Kid.  "Meester  Kid  Scan- 
Ian,"  he  pants,  "thisa  Meester  Van  Ness. 
He'sa  greata  bigga  actor.  Oh,  of  the  A 
numbera  seven!" 

"Yeh?"  says  the  Kid,  registerin'  "I- 
should-worry!"  and  gazin'  over  at  "Bomb 
Germo."  "Well,  that  ain't  my  fault,  is  it? 
Who's  the  other  guy?" 

"Guy?"  says  Genaro.     "Whata  guy?" 

"The  phoney  wop!"  pipes  the  Kid, 
pointin'  to  the  long,  thin  bird. 

"Oh,  heem!"  snorts  Genaro,  snappin'  his 
fingers.  "He'sa  nobody.  Justa  what  you 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING" 

call  the  dresser  for  the  granda  Meester  Van 
Ness." 

"He's  got  a  name,  ain't  he?"  asks  the  Kid. 

"Joosta  Tony,"  answers  Genaro. 

"Good  enough!"  comes  back  Scanlan, 
walking  across  the  room.  "Hey,  Tonyl" 
he  says.  "They  tell  me  you  claim  to  be  a 
Eyetalian." 

"That'sa  right!"  pipes  Tony,  forgettin' 
himself  and  scowlin'. 

"Well,"  goes  on  the  Kid.  "Bomb 
Germo!" 

"No  spika  da  Engleesh!"  frowns  Tony, 
waggling  his  shoulders. 

"You  big  stiff!"  roars  the  Kid,  gettin'  red 
in  the  face.  "You  won't  speak  nothin' 
when  I  get  done  toyin'  with  that  odd  face 
of  yours!" 

He  makes  a  dive  for  Tony,  but  Genaro 
grabs  him. 

"Joosta  one  minoote!"  pants  Genaro. 
"It'sa  maka  me  laugh!  Ho,  ho,  I  teenk  I 
getta  one,  two  hysterics!  Fighting  cham- 


216  KID  SCANLAN 

pion  of  the  world,  he'sa  getta  mad  at  the 
dresser!" 

"By  Jove!"  pants  Van  Ness,  givin'  the 
Kid  the  up  and  down  through  the  trick  eye- 
glass. "By  Jove!  I  told  Tony  to  converse 
with  no  one  while  we  were  here.  What 
does  this — this  person  mean  by  buffeting 
him  about?  I  thought  this  company  was 
composed  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  not 
stevedores  and  longshoremen!" 

"Don't  get  gay,  Fatty!"  yells  the  Kid, 
strugglin'  with  Genaro.  "I  put  bigger  ac- 
tors than  you  to  sleep.  I  gotta  left  hand 
that's  got  morphine  lookin'  like  a  alarm 
clock!" 

"Waita,  waita!"  shrieks  Genaro.  "We 
musta  all  be  the  friend.  Joosta  waita  when 
you  and  Meester  Van  Ness  get  better  ac- 
quainta  you'll  be  joosta  like — " 

"Germany  and  England!"  butts  in  the 
Kid,  tearin'  himself  away.  "Come  on!"  he 
tells  me.  "Let's  get  away  from  here,"  he 
glares  at  Van  Ness  and  Tony,  "before  cer- 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  217 

tain  parties  makes  any  more  cracks!  If 
they  do — I'll  make  'em  look  like  models  for 
The  Dyin'  Gladiator!" 

"Don'ta  minda  heem!"  whispers  Genaro 
to  Van  Ness,  as  we  get  over  to  the  door. 
"He'sa  fina  fel'.  He'sa  no  hurta  the  bam- 
bino— what  you  call  ba-bee.  Gotta  taka 
bag  of  the  salts  with  everything  he'sa  say. 
Gotta  lots  temperament!" 

"A  ruffian,  I  should  say!"  remarks  Van 
Ness  loudly. 

"Bigga  bunka!"  hisses  Tony. 

"What?"  roars  the  Kid,  swingin'  around 
on  them. 

"Good  day,  sir!"  pipes  Van  Ness,  step- 
pin'  back  of  the  desk. 

"No  spika  da  Engleesh!"  says  Tony, 
steppin'  in  back  of  his  boss. 

I  yanked  the  Kid  outside  before  violence 
was  had  by  all. 

Jason  Van  Ness  stayed  at  Film  City  for 
about  two  months.  Durin'  that  time  he 
made  as  many  friends  as  the  ex-Kaiser 


2i8  KID  SCANLAN 

would  pick  up  in  Paris.  They  was  two  rea- 
sons for  this,  the  first  bein'  that  he  was  the 
most  dignified  and  solemn  guy  I  ever  seen  in 
my  life.  Stories  that  would  put  a  victim  of 
lockjaw  in  hysterics  couldn't  coax  a  snicker 
from  that  undertaker's  face  of  his  which 
would  have  made  a  supreme  court  justice 
look  like  a  clown.  In  fact,  if  he'd  been  a 
judge  and  I  ever  come  up  before  him,  I 
would  have  took  one  flash  at  that  face  and 
asked  him  to  gimme  life  and  let  it  go  at 
that!  His  favorite  smokin'-room  story  was 
what  causes  spots  on  the  sun  or  somethin' 
equally  excitin',  and  pretty  soon  they  was 
a  standin'  offer  of  a  hundred  bucks  to  the 
first  guy  that  could  make  Van  Ness  laugh! 

Some  of  the  greatest  comedians  the  mov- 
ies ever  seen  laid  awake  nights  and  become 
famous  on  stunts  they  pulled  off  for  the  sole 
benefit  of  Van  Ness — and  all  he  did  was  to 
inquire  if  they  was  crazy  or  soused! 

The  second  reason  that  Van  Ness  was 
as  unpopular  as  snow  durin'  the  world's 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  219 

series  was  because  he  was  the  greatest  actor 
that  ever  moaned  for  the  star's  dressin'- 
room. 

He  was  brought  on  to  play  the  lead  in 
one  of  them  early  Roman  frolics  where  the 
extry  people  is  called  "martyrs"  and  hurled 
to  the  practical  lions  in  the  last  reel,  whilst 
the  emperor  raises  his  hand  for  the  slaugh- 
ter to  begin,  murmurin'  "This  is  the  end 
of  a  perfect  day!"  When  Jason  Van  Ness 
walked  to  the  middle  of  the  arena,  throwed 
one  end  of  his  cloak  over  his  shoulder,  faced 
the  camera  and  give  himself  up  to  actin' — 
well,  you  forgot  all  his  bad  habits  and 
thanked  Heaven  for  lettin'  you  live  to  see 
him! 

That  baby  was  there! 

He  was  stuck  up,  he  had  no  friends,  he 
wouldn't  laugh,  and  he  had  a  trick  name 
and  carried  a  dresser,  but,  Sweet  Papa! — he 
was  some  actor! 

The  Kid  and  me  stood  watchin1  him  the 
first  time  he  worked,  with  our  eyes  and 


220  KID  SCANLAN 

mouths  as  open  as  a  mobile  crap  tourney. 

"Ain't  he  a  bear?"  asks  Eddie  Duke, 
comin'  up.  "That's  all  two-dollar  stuff  he's 
pullin'  there,  bo!  Y'  don't  see  actin'  like 
that  every  day,  eh?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  says  the  Kid,  takin' 
a  fresh  slant  at  Van  Ness.  "I  bet  I  could 
give  him  a  battle  in  Shakespeare,  at  that! 
I  was  a  riot  in  'Richard  the  Third,' 
wasn't  I?" 

"Cease!"  sneers  Duke.  "This  bird  has 
got  them  classics  layin'  down  and  rollin' 
over  when  he  snaps  his  fingers.  Did  you 
ever  see  him  in  'Quo  Vadis'?" 

"No!"  says  the  Kid.  "But  I  seen  him  in 
tights  when  they  was— 

Just  then  Miss  Vincent  comes  along. 
She's  in  the  picture  with  Van  Ness,  playin' 
the  beautiful  Christian  martyr  which  is  tied 
to  the  lion's  back  in  the  fourth  reel,  because 
she  won't  quit  chantin'  "Now  I  lay  me— 
or  somethin'  like  that.  After  that  they 
throw  her  to  the  panthers  with  Abe  Men- 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  221 

delowitz,  another  Christian  martyr  and  the 
guy  that  built  the  scene.  She  told  me  that 
was  the  story  of  the  thing,  and  asked  me 
what  I  thought  of  it.  Personally,  I  think 
them  martyrs  was  a  lot  of  boobs.  If  I'd 
have  been  there,  I  would  have  bent  the  knee 
before  them  heathen  idols  and  then  done 
my  private  prayin'  elsewhere.  The  head 
martyr  might  have  called  me  yellah,  but  no 
lion  would  have  broke  his  fast  on  me! 

While  I'm  thinkin'  about  this,  Miss  Vin- 
cent reminds  me  that  she's  waitin'  for  my 
verdict  on  the  thing.  The  last  I  heard  her 
say  was  about  bein'  tied  to  that  lion. 

"Well,"  I  says,  "I'll  tell  you.  7  think 
it's  pretty  soft  for  the  lions  myself  and— 

"How  are  you  and  Stupid  gettin'  along?" 
butts  in  the  Kid,  pointin'  to  Van  Ness  and 
touchin'  Miss  Vincent's  arm. 

She  frowns. 

"You  mustn't  call  him  Stupid!"  she  says. 
"Mister  Van  Ness  is  an  artist  and  a  gentle- 
man— and — and  right  now  I  want  to  tell 


222  KID  SCANLAN 

you  that  I  think  all  you  men  are  wicked  for 
the  way  you  have  been  treating  him!  Here 
he  is  away  out  here,  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land,  and  simply  because  he  is  above  the 
vulgar  horseplay  so  popular  around  here, 
you  ostracize  him.  Because  his  grammar 
and  dress  is  perfect  he  is  a  pariah!  Don't 
you  think  he  feels  that?  Isn't  he  human 
the  same  as  the  rest  of  you?  Why — why, 
if  he  were  a  woman,  all  the  girls  would 
have  helped  and  encouraged  him  and  made 
him  welcome  in  any  gathering  while  he 
was  here.  Don't  you  think  it  hurt  when 
you  broke  up  that  poker  party  last  night 
when  he  came  in?  Or  when  he  was  delib- 
erately excluded  from  that  hunting  trip  by 
that  wretched  Eddie  Duke?  Or  any  of  the 
— the  mean,  petty,  little  things  you  have 
done  to  him — all  of  you — since  he's  been 
here?  Oh,  you  men  are  horrid!"  She 
gathers  up  her  skirts  and  flashes  Scanlan  a 
look,  "I  thought  you,  at  least,  were  differ- 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  223 

ent!"  she  whispers — and  trips  into  the  pic- 
ture! 

For  about  three  minutes  the  Kid  stands 
lookin'  after  her  without  sayin'  a  word. 
He  acts  like  he  has  stopped  one  with  his 
chin! 

"The  big  English  stiff!"  he  busts  out  fi- 
nally. "What  does  he  mean  by  comin* 
over  here  and  gettin'  me  in  a  jam  with  my 
girl?  I'll  get  that  bird,  though,  believe 
me!" 

"What  are  you  gonna  do?"  I  says. 

"I'm  gonna  take  that  solemn-faced  simp 
back  of  the  African  Desert  and  give  him 
a  chance  at  the  welterweight  title!"  he 
snorts.  "I'll  wallop  that  bird  till  he'll  wish 
he  had  stayed  over  in  dear  old  England 
and—" 

"Stoppa!"  comes  a  voice  from  the  back 
of  us,  and  we  look  around  into  the  muzzles 
of  two  automatics.  On  the  other  end  of 
them  was  Tony  I 


224  KID  SCANLAN 

"I  hear  everyt'ing!"  he  snarls,  wavin'  the 
guns  and  glarin'  at  us.  "I  hear  every- 
t'ing!" 

The  Kid  looks  at  the  guns  and  coughs, 
kinda  nervous.  I  was  glancin'  at  friend 
Tony,  myself. 

"Ain't  that  nice!"  I  remarks,  feelin'  my 
way  carefully. 

"What  you  mean?"  snarls  the  ex-"No 
spika  da  Engleesh." 

"Bein'  able  to  hear  everything,"  I  ex- 
plains, thinkin'  to  humour  him.  "I'll  bet 
right  now  you're  listenin'  to  a  little  spicy 
scandal  at  some  'King's  palace,  eh?" 

"Don't  got  funny!"  he  warns  me. 

"Ha!  ha!"  snickers  the  Kid.  "Where 
d'ye  get  that  got  funny  stuff?" 

"What'sa  that?"  yells  Tony,  whirlin'  on 
him  and  shovin'  the  guns  under  his  nose. 

The  Kid  gets  pale  and  shuffles  back  a  few 
steps. 

"No  spika  da  Engleesh!"  he  pipes, 
holdin'  up  his  hand. 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  225 

"Pah!"  grunts  Tony,  registerin'  disgust. 
"Me — I  laugh  at  you!  All  the  tima  you 
talk  'bout  Meester  Van  Ness,  I  standa 
righta  here  with  the  ear  wide  open.  You 
no  feexa  nobody — maybe  Tony  he'sa  feexa 
you!  I  hear  you  say  you  no  lika  Meester 
Van  Ness  because  he'sa  no  laugha.  Sure, 
he'sa  laugha — but  not  all  the  tima  on  the 
streeta  like  crazee  fel'.  When  Meester 
Van  Ness — ah,  he'sa  granda  man — when 
he'sa  wanna  laugha,  he'sa  go  home,  to  he'sa 
rooma,  shutta  the  door  and  standa  in  the 
corner.  Then  he'sa  a  laugha  ha!  ha!  ha! 
ho !  ho !  ho ! — lika  that !  That'sa  lasta  heem 
all  day!" 

"Oh,  Lady!"  says  the  Kid,  holdin'  his 
side.  "Can  you  tie  that?"  He  looks  over 
and  sees  Van  Ness  in  a  clinch  with  Miss 
Vincent — and  son,  you  could  see  the  mus- 
cles rollin'  under  his  coat  sleeves.  "Look 
at  the  big,  ignorant  boob  now!"  he  howls. 

"Ignoranta!"  hisses  Tony.  "Whata  you 
mean,  ignoranta?  Seven  difference  Ian- 


226  KID  SCANLAN 

guage  thisa  granda  Meester  Van  Ness  he'sa 
speak!  He'sa  teacha  everybody — joosta 
lika  wan  college!" 

"Why  don't  you  get  him  to  teach  you 
Eyetalian  then,  Stupid?"  sneers  the  Kid. 
"You're  a  fine  thing  to  luck  your  way  past 
Ellis  Island  when  you  can't  even  tell  me 
what  Bomb  Germo  means!" 

"Don't  got  funny!"  warns  Tony.  "What 
gooda  now  for  you  be  fighting  champion 
for  the  world,  eh?  Leetle  Tony  he'sa 
standa  here  calla  you  names  and  what  can 
you  do,  eh?  Nothing — joosta  nothing! 
Champion,  eh?  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Don't  maka 
me  laugha,  Meester  Fightaire!"  He 
shoves  the  gun  in  the  Kid's  face  and  snarls, 
"Now!"  he  says.  "Telia  Tony  you  feela 
sorry  for  soaka  heem  in  jaw!" 

The  Kid  bites  his  lip  and  edges  in  a  bit. 
Right  away  I  got  sorry  for  Tony! 

"I'm  sorry!"  sneers  Scanlan  slowly. 
"Awful  sorry — just  thinkin'  of  it  has  got 
me  all  broke  up.  I  meant  to  let  you  have 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  227 

it  on  the  beak,  but  I'll  make  up  for  it  now!" 
He  looks  over  Tony's  shoulder  suddenly 
and  yells.  "Hey,  don't  throw  that!" 

If  they  had  rehearsed  the  act,  Tony 
couldn't  have  fallen  for  the  plant  any 
harder.  He  twists  his  neck  around  to  look 
back  like  the  Kid  figured  and  Scanlan 
started  one  from  his  left  ankle.  It  caught 
Tony  right  on  the  button — which  in  Eng- 
lish is  the  point  of  the  chin — and  Tony  gives 
a  imitation  of  a  seal.  He  took  a  dive! 

While  we're  takin'  him  away  from  his  ar- 
tillery, I  look  up  and  there's  Van  Ness 
lookin'  down  at  us  and  frownin'.  He 
reaches  inside  that  Roman  toga  thing  he's 
wearin'  and  comes  out  with  a  round  piece  of 
glass  which  he  balances  on  one  eye. 

"Ah — I  say!"  he  pipes,  glarin'  at  the  Kid. 
"This  is  getting  jolly  annoying,  my  man. 
It  appears  that  every  time  we  meet, 
you  have  just  committed  a  murderous  as- 
sault upon  my  dresser!  Since  you  are  the 
— ah — champion  fighter  of  the  universe, 


228  KID  SCANLAN 

why  do  you  not  joust  with  more  of  its  inhab- 
itants and  not  center  your  activities  upon 
one  who  knows  nothing  of  the  art  of  self- 
defense?" 

The  Kid  grunts,  takin'  away  Tony's  guns 
and  removin'  a  couple  of  them  long  banana 
knives  from  his  clothes.  Meanwhile,  the 
daredevil  dresser  is  showin'  no  more  signs 
of  life  than  a  sleepin'  alligator,  so  I  figured 
it  was  about  time  to  pull  a  little  first  aid 
stuff.  I  turned  him  over  on  his  back  and 
took  off  his  coat,  grabbin'  it  by  the  bottom 
and  holdin'  it  up.  They  was  a  sudden 
crash  and — Sweet  Cookie!  A  lot  of  things 
fell  on  the  ground,  among  'em  bein'  one  set 
of  brass  knuckles,  one  blackjack,  two  more 
guns,  a  thing  that  looked  like  a  bayonet, 
five  boxes  of  cartridges,  a  small  bottle  of  ni- 
tro-glycerine  and  three  sticks  of  dynamite! 
The  last  two  fell  in  the  folds  of  the  coat, 
or  we'd  all  have  gone  away  from  there. 
Tony's  master  looks  at  the  layout  with  his 
eyes  stickin'  so  far  out  of  his  head  you 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  229 

could  have  knocked  'em  off  with  a  cane. 

Scanlan  eyes  him  and  laughs. 

"This  is  the  bird  which  don't  know 
nothin'  about  self-defense,  eh?"  he  grins, 
pointin'  to  Tony.  "Well,  if  he'd  been  in 
Belgium  a  few  years  ago,  I  bet  the  Germans 
would  never  have  got  through!" 

"Oh,  I  say!"  gasps  Van  Ness.  "This  is 
a  bit  of  a  shock!  Why  the  fellow  is  a  walk- 
ing arsenal!" 

"He's  more  like  a  sleepin'  fort,  now!"  I 
says,  pointin'  to  Tony  on  the  turf. 

"Look  at  the  chances  you  been  takin* 
havin'  a  guy  like  that  fasten  your  garters 
and  so  forth,"  pipes  Scanlan.  "You  ought 
to  thank  us  for  exposin'  him!" 

Then  Tony  comes  to  life  and  havin7 
helped  him  down,  the  Kid  helps  him  up. 

"Sapristij"  remarks  Tony,  glarin7  at 
him.  "You  bigga  stiffa!  Sometime  Tony 
he'sa  feexa  you  for  dis!  Whata  you  hitta 
me  with?" 

"I  think  it  was  a  left  hook,"  the  Kid  tells 


230  KID  SCANLAN 

him,  rubbin'  his  chin,  like  he  ain't  sure. 

"Aha!"  snarls  Tony.  "I  know  you 
never  hit  with  your  feest  sooch  a  punch! 
Don't  got  funny  with  me  any  more!  I 
wanna  tella  you,  you  keepa  up  knock  it 
down  Tony  every  fiva,  tena,  fifteen  min- 
ootes  and  some  time  Tony  he'sa  got  mad! 
When  Tony  he'sa  got  mad — "  He  stops 
and  makes  a  terrible  face  at  me  and  the 
Kid,  " — when  Tony  he'sa  got  mad,  some- 
thing she'sa  gotta  fall! — dat'sa  all!" 

"Well,  you  been  doin'  all  the  fallin'  so 
far,"  I  says,  "and—" 

"Ah — I  say!"  butts  in  Van  Ness — and 
Tony  sees  him  for  the  first  time,  I  guess, 
because  he  shivered  and  got  pale.  "I  say," 
he  goes  on,  takin'  a  slant  at  Tony  through 
the  trick  eyeglass,  "just  what  does  this 
mean,  Antonio?  Why  are  you  walking 
about  with  this  extraordinary  collection  of 
weapons  on  your  person?"  He  points  his 
finger  at  the  munitions  on  the  ground,  and 
Tony's  eyes  follows  his.  At  the  same  time 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  231 

he  makes  a  little  clickin'  noise  in  his  throat 
and  jumps  for  the  pile. 

"Where  is  she  the  gooda  carbolic  acid?" 
he  snarls.  "And  whosa  taka  my  eleven 
incha  stiletto?" 

"How  dare  you  ignore  my  question!" 
thunders  Van  Ness.  "What  are  you  doing 
with  all  those  weapons?  Answer  me!" 

"  'Scuse  a  me!"  says  Tony,  makin'  a  bow 
and  takin'  off  his  hat.  "I  getta  them  for 
my  brudda!" 

"Where's  your  brother?"  asks  the  Kid. 
"In  Russia?" 

"  'Sno  use  you  talka  to  me!"  growls  Tony, 
"I  no  talka  back.  Sometime  Tony  he'sa 
getta  mad  and  then — " 

"Come,  come!"  interrupts  Van  Ness, 
kinda  sharp.  "The  weapons — what  of 
them?" 

"  'Scuse  a  me!"  bows  Tony  with  another 
smile.  "My  brudda  he'sa  live  in  Santa 
Francisco.  He'sa  fina  fel' — my  brudda. 
He'sa  name  Joe.  He'sa  come  this  coun- 


1232  KID  SCANLAN 

tree  five  years  ago,  no  fren's,  no  spika  da 
Engleesh,  no  nothing!  They  putta  heem 
in  the  basement  of  the  sheepa  wit'  coupla 
thousand  other  fel'  from  seventy-six  other 
countree.  One  fel'  say  my  Joe  he'sa  no  be 
able  to  leava  the  sheepa  at — at — what  you 
call?  I  don't  know — I  teenk  maybe  Chi- 
cago, Pennsylvania,  Coney  Island — I  don't 
know  joosta  now!  Anyhow  thisa  fel'  say 
Joe  he'sa  no  be  able  to  leava  the  sheepa 
wherever  he'sa  wanna  go — eef  he'sa  got  no 
money,  you  'stanna  me?  Joe  he'sa  tank  dis 
kinda  fel',  say  coupla  nica  prayer  for  heem 
and  then  everybody  she'sa  a  maka  sleepa. 
Joe  he'sa  get  up  and  taka  four  hundred  dol- 
lar from  thisa  nica  fel' — whosa  sleepa  lika 
he'sa  dead — so  Joe  he'sa  be  able  to  leeva  the 
sheepa!  He'sa  a  smarta  fel',  eh?  That'sa 
Joe.  He'sa  my  brudda!" 

"Oh,  Lady!"  says  the  Kid.  "What  was 
you  takin'  him  the  ammunition  for?" 

"Don't  spika  to  me!"  snorts  Tony.  "I  no 
answera  you!  I  tella  Meester  Van  Ness. 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  233 

He'sa  my  boss.     He'sa  fina  fel',  too —  joosta 
lika  my  brudda!" 

"How  dare  you!"  splutters  Van  Ness,  his 
face  as  red  as  a  ale-hound's  nose.  "What 
do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  'Scuse  a  me!"  says  Tony.  "Don't  get 
mad  for  Tony.  No  spika  da  Engleesh  very 
gooda — maybe  I  maka  meestake!  Joe 
he'sa  writa  me  come  over  Santa  Francisco 
queek,  because  he'sa  gotta  the  trouble  witr 
he'sa  landlord.  Disa  fel'  he'sa  a  wanta  da 
rent  maybe,  I  don't  know,  but  Joe  he'sa 
wanta  me  bring  somet'ing  so  he'sa  can  feex 
disa  fel'  nex'  time  he  come  around,  you 
'stanna  me?  He  say  he'sa  a  bigga  feP- 
tougha  nut!  Yesterday  I  go  out  and  getta 
wan  gun  for  Joe.  Then  I  teenk  maybe  that 
ain't  enough  for  poor  leetle  Joe  against 
thisa  bigga  stiffa  landlord,  so  I  stoppa 
drugga  store,  hardaware,  meata  store,  five, 
six,  sevena  place  and  get  somet'ing  for  Joe 
he'sa  feex  landlord.  Then  I  hear  thisa  felr 
say  he'sa  gonna  feexa  you!"  Tony  swings 


234  KID  SCANLAN 

around  and  points  at  the  Kid.  "Tony  he'sa 
don't  care  if  thisa  bigga  stiffa  he's  a  cham- 
pion for  the  world.  Tony  he's  a  gotta  knif a, 
gun,  dynamite,  carbolic  acida,  everyt'ing 
for  fighta.  I  talka  -to  heem  sweeta  and 
he'sa  knocka  me  down  wit'  a  hook!  While 
I  sleepa  on  the  dirt,  somebody  she'sa  taka 
my  gooda  carbolic  acida  and  stiletto  I  getta 
for  Joe!" 

"Oh,  Lady!"  yells  the  Kid,  slappin'  me  on 
the  back.  "This  guy  is  a  riot!" 

"You  may  go  to  the  hotel,  Antonio,"  says 
Van  Ness,  "and  await  me  there.  I  am  sur- 
prised and  grieved  at  your  beastly  con- 
duct!" 

Tony  hands  Van  Ness  a  gun  and  the  bot- 
tle of  nitro-glycerine. 

"Alia  right!"  he  says.  "Tony  he'sa  go. 
But  watcha  this  two  fel'  they  wanna  feexa 
you.  The  little  fel'  you  can  shoota — but 
the  bigga  stiffa  whosa  knocka  me  down, 
he'sa  needa  more  than  that!  Taka  thisa 
bottle  and  throw  it  at  heem  harda.  That'sa 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  235 

blow  heem  away  so  far,  it  taka  four  thou- 
sand dollar  for  heem  to  come  back  on 
sheepa,  thirda  class!" 

Van  Ness  puts  the  gun  and  the  nitro  in 
Tony's  pocket. 

"Begone,  sir!"  he  says.  "I'll  jolly  well 
attend  to  you  later!" 

Tony  gathers  up  his  junk  and  throwin' 
a  last  glare  at  me  and  the  Kid,  beats  it. 

Van  Ness  turns  to  the  Kid,  stickin'  the 
eyeglass  back  in  the  toga. 

"Ah — and  now,  Scanlan,"  he  says,  "will 
you  be  good  enough  to  explain  the  cause  of 
the — ah — bitter  animosity  you  have  for 
me?" 

The  Kid  frowns  and  scratches  his  head. 

"Somebody  has  been  kiddin'  you,"  he 
tells  him.  "I  ain't  got  nothin'  for  you! 
Where  d'ye  get  that  animosity  thing?" 

Van  Ness  sighs  so  hard  it  like  to  blowed 
our  hats  off. 

"It  is  beastly  plain  to  me,"  he  says,  "that 
I  am  about  as  popular  in  Film  City  as  a 


236  KID  SCANLAN 

cloudburst  at  a  picnic!  I  am  snubbed,  rid- 
iculed, vulgarly  and  subtly  insulted!  Also 
I  am  white  and  human  and — ah — I  must 
confess  it  has  penetrated  my  skin.  You  are 
particularly  bitter  against  me — why?" 

The  Kid  studies  him  for  a  minute. 

"Listen!"  he  answers  finally.  "Are  you 
on  the  level  with  this?  D'ye  really  wanna 
know,  or  are  you  simply  askin'  me  so's  you 
can  pull  one  of  them  witty  remarks  on  the 
way  I  answer  you — an d  get  'walloped  on  the 
beak?" 

Van  Ness  did  somethin'  then  I  never  seen 
him  do  before  and  only  once  afterwarcf. 
He  grinned!  The  Roman  toga  fell  off  his 
shoulders,  and  he  leans  over  with  his  hands 
on  his  hips.  On  the  level,  his  whole  face 
seemed  to  change!  And  then — 

Oh,  boy! 

"Listen,  guy!"  pipes  this  big,  dignified 
whatnot.  "I'm  on  the  level,  all  right  and 
I  want  the  lowdown  on  this  thing,  d'ye 
make  me?"  (Me  and  the  Kid  nearly  went 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  237 

dead  on  our  feet  listenin'.)  "As  for  wal- 
lopin'  me  on  the  beak,  well — you  may  be 
welterweight  champion  out  here,  but  if  you 
start  anything  with  me,  I'll  remove  you 
from  the  title,  d'ye  get  that?" 

Woof! 

The  Kid  and  me  falls  back  against  a  rock, 
fightin'  for  air! 

"Oh,  Lady!"  whispers  the  Kid,  fannin' 
himself  with  his  hat.  "Did  you  hear  what 
I  did?" 

"Call  me  at  seven!"  I  gasps. 

"Well — ?"  drawls  Van  Ness,  lookin'  us 
over. 

"They's  just  one  thing  I'd  like  to  know," 
murmurs  the  Kid,  wipin'  his  forehead  with 
my  handkerchief  in  the  excitement. 
"What  part  of  dear  old  England  was  you 
born  in?" 

Van  Ness  grins  some  more. 

"Brooklyn!"  he  says,  jerkin'  out  the  eye 
glass  again  and  stickin'  it  on  his  eye. 
"Surely,  my  man,"  he  goes  on,  with  that  old 


238  KID  SCANLAN 

silly  stare  of  his;  "surely  you  have  heard  of 
jolly  old  Brooklyn — what?" 

"I  know  it  well!"  says  the  Kid.  "It's  on 
the  wrong  end  of  the  bridge!  But  where 
d'ye  get  the  'my  man'  thing?  And  what 
have  you  been  goin'  around  like  a  Swiss 
duke  or  somethin',  when  it  turns  out  you're 
only  a  roughneck  from  Brooklyn?  You 
wanna  know  why  you  don't  belong,  and 
don't  fit  in  here,  eh?  Well,  you  big  hick, 
where  d'ye  get  that  Sedate  Sam  stuff?"  He 
slaps  Van  Ness  on  the  arm.  "Why  in  the 
Hail  Columbia  don't  you  bust  out  and  gig- 
gle now  and  then,  hey?" 

"Why  don't  I?"  snarls  Van  Ness. 
"Don't  you  think  I'd  like  to?  Don't  you 
think  I  would  if  I  could,  you  boob?" 

"Would  if  you  could?"  repeats  the  Kid. 
"What's  the  matter — have  you  got  lock- 
jaw?" 

"No!"  roars  Van  Ness,  so  sudden  that  we 
both  sidestepped.  "No!  Not  lockjaw, 
worse !  Dignity!" 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  239 

"Have  you  give  the  mud  baths  at  Hot 
Springs  a  play?"  I  asks. 

"Stop  it!"  he  sneers.  "Cease  that  small 
time  comedy!  I'm  the  most  dignified  per- 
son in  the  world — the  undisputed  cham- 
pion! I'm  Frowning  Frank  and  Imposing 
Ike  rolled  into  one.  It  hurts  me  more  than 
it  does  you,  but  I  can't  help  it!  I  fail  to  re- 
member the  last  time  I  enjoyed  a  hearty 
laugh  and  I  know  it  will  be  a  darned  long 
space  before  I'll  snicker  again.  My  laugh- 
er has  gone  unused  for  so  long  that  it's  atro- 
phied and  won't  work.  I've  tried  warm- 
ing it  up  by  going  home  at  night  and  guf- 
fawing before  the  mirror,  but  the  result  is 
only  a  mirthless  giggle — a  ghostly  chortle! 
Of  course,  I  wouldn't  dare  attempt  to  laugh 
in  public!" 

"Do  what?"  asks  the  Kid. 

"Laugh !"  answers  Van  Ness  bitterly.  "I 
can't  even  let  myself  think  of  doing  it- 
why,  it  would  ruin  me !  My  dignity  is  all  I 
have.  It's  my  stock  in  trade  and  without 


24o  KID  SCANLAN 

it  I  would  lose  my  income  I  Were  I  to  un- 
bend and  shatter  the  air  with  harmless  cach- 
innation,  it  would  be  thought  at  once  that  I 
had  been  drinking!"  He  stopped  and 
sighed  some  more.  "It  began  ten  years 
ago,"  he  goes  on.  "I  was  playing  small 
parts  in  a  stock  company  and  one  week  I 
was  cast  for  a  Roman  senator.  Being  anx- 
ious to  make  good,  I  made  that  noble  so  dig- 
nified that  the  local  critics  dismissed  the 
play  with  a  few  paragraphs  and  gave  half 
a  column  to  my  stately  bearing  1  That 
started  it,  and  from  that  time  I've  played 
nothing  but  Romans,  kings,  governors,  car- 
dinals and  similar  roles,  calling  for  my  in- 
fernal talent  in  the  one  direction.  Mechan- 
ically I  grew  to  playing  them  on  and  off, 
yet  all  the  time  within  me  burns  the  desire 
to  do  rough  and  tumble,  yes,  by  Heaven, 
slapstick  comedy!  But  alas,  I  lack  the 
moral  courage  to  throw  off  the  yokel" 

"Well,    Mister  Van   Ness—"   I   begins, 
when  the  silence  begun  to  hurt,  "I — " 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  241 

"Not  Van  Ness!"  he  interrupts.  "The 
name  is  as  false  as  my  manner!  My  name 
is  Fink,  Eddie  Fink,  and  please  don't  add 
the  Mister.  When  a  lad  I  had  a  nickname, 
but,  alas,  I— 

"What  was  it?"  butts  in  the  Kid. 

He  hesitates. 

"Well,  it  was  rather  frivolous,"  he  says. 
"As  indeed  I  was  myself — a  happy,  care- 
free youth!  The  boys  called  me  Foolish — 
Foolish  Fink!"  He  throws  out  his  chest 
like  he  just  realized  how  he  had  been  hon- 
ored at  the  time. 

Me  and  the  Kid  both  had  a  coughin'  fit. 

"Let's  go  over  to  Montana  Bill's,"  I  says, 
when  I  thought  it  was  safe  to  look  up,  "and 
we'll  talk  it  over." 

"Yeh!"  chimes  in  the  Kid.  "Over  a  tray 
of  private  stock!"  He  laughs  and  slaps 
alias  Van  Ness  on  the  shoulder.  "Cheer 
up!  Foolish  Fink,  will  you  have  a  little 
drink?  Woof,  woof!  I'm  a  poet!" 

"Thanks!"  says  Van  Ness.     "But  I'm  on 


242  KID  SCANLAN 

the  wagon.  I  stopped  drinking  five  years 
ago,  because  under  the  influence  of  alcohol 
I've  been  known  to  act  the  fool!" 

"You  ain't  the  only  one!"  says  the  Kid. 
"Anyhow  I  never  touch  it  myself  and 
Johnny  here  only  uses  it  on  his  hair!  But 
come  on  over — you  can  have  your  pants 
pressed  or  take  a  shine,  I'm  gonna  buy,  and 
you  might  as  well  get  in  on  it.  Bill's  got 
a  laughin'  hyena  in  a  cage  outside,  and 
maybe  you  could  get  him  to  rehearse  you!" 

About  a  week  after  that,  the  society  bunch 
in  Frisco  comes  over  to  Film  City  to  act  in 
a  picture  for  the  benefit  of  the  electric  fan 
fund  for  Greenland,  or  somethin'  like  that. 
About  fifty  of  the  future  corespondents, 
known  to  the  trade  as  the  younger  set, 
blows  over  in  charge  of  a  dame  who  had 
passed  her  thirty-sixth  birth  and  bust  day 
when  Napoleon  was  a  big  leaguer.  She 
had  did  well  by  herself  though  and  when 
dressed  for  the  street,  they  was  harder 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  243 

things  to  look  at  than  her.  Also,  when  her 
last  husband  died,  he  left  her  a  bankroll 
that  when  marked  in  figures  on  paper 
looked  like  it  was  the  number  of  South- 
erners below  Washington.  A  little  bit  of 
a  guy,  which  turned  around  when  you 
yelled  "G.  Herbert  Gale"  at  him,  breezed 
over  with  her  and  at  first  I  had  him  figured 
as  a  detective  seekin'  divorce  evidence,  be- 
cause he  stuck  to  that  dame  like  a  cheap 
vaudeville  act  does  to  the  American  flag. 
He  trailed  a  few  paces  behind  her  every- 
where she  went,  callin'  her  "Mrs.  Roberts- 
Miller"  in  public  and  "Helen  Dear"  when 
he  figured  nobody  was  listenin'.  It  was 
easy  to  see  that  he  had  crashed  madly  in 
love  with  this  charmer,  but  as  far  as  she  was 
concerned  they  was  nothin'  stirrin'. 

Except  that  G.  Herbert  was  inclined  to 
be  a  simp,  he  wasn't  a  bad  guy  at  that.  He 
mixed  well  and  bought  freely,  although  he 
was  riveted  to  the  water  wagon  himself. 


244  KID  SCANLAN 

He  bragged  to  me  in  fact  that  the  nearest 
he  ever  come  to  alcohol  in  his  life  was  once 
when  he  used  it  to  clean  his  diamonds. 

But  G.  Herbert  was  the  guy  that  in- 
vented the  ancient  and  honorable  order  of 
village  cut-ups.  I  never  asked  him  what 
the  G  stood  for  in  his  name,  I  guessed  it  the 
first  day  he  was  in  our  midst.  It  meant 
"Giggle!"  This  here  Herbert  person  was 
a  laughin'  fool!  The  first  time  I  talked 
with  him  I  thought  I  was  cheatin'  myself 
by  only  bein'  Scanlan's  manager.  I  fig- 
ured I  ought  to  be  in  vaudeville  knockin' 
'em  dead  for  five  hundred  a  week,  because 
G.  Herbert  roared  at  everything  I  said. 
He  screamed  with  mirth  at  all  the  old  ones 
and  had  hysterics  over  three  or  four  witty 
remarks  I  remembered  from  a  show  I  seen 
the  night  of  the  Johnstown  flood.  I 
thought,  of  course,  it  was  the  way  I  put  the 
stuff  over,  and  I  was  just  gonna  give  the  Kid 
my  fare-you-well,  when  I  seen  G.  Herbert 
standin'  by  a  practical  undertaker's  shop 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  245 

that  was  fixed  up  for  a  fillum.  The  little 
simp  was  standin'  over  a  coffin  laughin'  his 
head  off! 

That  cured  me,  but  him  and  the  Kid  be- 
come great  little  pals.  I  found  out  later  it 
was  on  account  of  G.  Herbert  snickerin'  at 
the  Kid's  comedy.  Scanlan  hadn't  discov- 
ered it  was  a  habit  with  this  guy,  and  he 
claimed  here  was  a  feller  that  knowed  hu- 
mor when  he  seen  it. 

One  afternoon  I  see  Scanlan  and  Miss 
Vincent  whisperin'  together  like  yeggmen 
outside  a  postoffice.  They  called  me  over, 
and  the  Kid  tells  me  that  the  society  bunch 
was  gonna  leave  us  flat  on  the  midnight 
train,  and  before  they  blowed,  Potts  was 
gonna  give  'em  a  dinner  and  dance.  All 
the  movie  crowd  was  to  mix  with  Frisco's 
four  hundred,  so's  that  both  could  enjoy  the 
experience  and  say  they  took  a  chance  once 
in  their  lives. 

But  the  thing  that  was  botherm'  Miss 
[Vincent — (Some  dame,  that!  She  was  the 


246  KID  SCANLAN 

world's  champion  woman,  believe  me!) 
The  thing  that  worried  her  was  G.  Herbert 
and  Helen  Dear,  alias  Mrs.  Roberts- 
Miller.  Likin'  'em  both,  Miss  Vincent 
wanted  to  hurl  'em  together  for  good  and 
all  before  the  train  pulled  out. 

It  seems  the  only  objection  the  dame  had 
to  G.  Herbert  was  the  fact  that  he  couldn't 
keep  from  laughin'.  She  had  him  figured 
as  a  eighteen-carat  simp  and  frequently 
told  him  so,  addin'  that  she  could  never 
marry  a  man  who  was  shy  on  dignity. 
Then  she  gets  a  flash  at  our  old  pal  Jason 
Van  Ness  or  Eddie  Fink,  as  he  claimed, 
and  she  fell  so  hard  for  him  she  liked  to 
broke  her  neck!  Here  was  the  only  orig- 
inal Sedate  Sam!  Here  was  the  guy  she 
was  willin'  and  anxious  to  lead  to  the  altar 
and  then  to  the  old  safe  deposit  vault!  He 
was  so  handsome!  So  dignified!  Such  a 
splendid  actor!  That's  the  stuff  she  was  al- 
ways handin'  poor  little  G.  Herbert  and 
askin'  him  why  he  wasn't  like  that?  G. 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  247 

Herbert  would  shake  his  head,  giggle,  and 
say  he  didn't  know  why,  but  he'd  ask  his 
parents. 

Van  Ness  couldn't  see  Helen  Dear  with 
opera  glasses.  He  told  me  he  hated  'em 
stout,  and,  if  possible,  had  figured  on  wed- 
din'  somebody  within  ten  years  of  his  age — 
either  way.  I  then  felt  it  my  duty  to  in- 
form him  that  her  bankroll  was  stouter 
than  she  was.  He  goes  into  high  speed  on 
the  dignity  thing  and  sets  sail  for  Helen 
Dear  like  a  bloodhound  after  a  nigger. 
He  didn't  want  to  look  like  a  vulgar  for- 
tune hunter,  he  claimed,  but  'he  figured  if 
he  could  get  his  ringers  on  a  piece  of 
Helen's  dough,  he  could  bribe  G.  Herbert 
to  teach  him  the  art  of  laughin'. 

The  Kid  tells  Miss  Vincent  to  forget 
about  the  thing,  and  he  would  guarantee 
that  G.  Herbert  and  Helen  Dear  went  away 
threatenin'  to  marry  each  other.  She  said 
she'd  leave  the  matter  in  our  hands  and 
held  hers  out.  I  shook  it  and  Scanlan 


248  KID  SCANLAN 

kissed  it — a  trick  he  stole  from  Van  Ness. 

The  dinner  and  dance  that  night  was  a 
knockout!  Film  City  is  lit  up  like  a 
plumber  used  to  be  on  Saturday  night,  and 
the  inhabitants  is  dressed  like  the  people 
that  poses  for  the  ads  of  any  cigarette  over  t 
fifteen  cents  a  pack.  As  usual,  Miss  Vin- 
cent had  the  rest  of  the  dames  lookin'  like 
sellin'  platers  in  stake  race  and,  believe  me, 
some  of  them  society  girls  would  have  wor- 
ried Venus.  The  'Kid  was  so  swelled  up 
because  she  kept  within  easy  call  all  night 
that  he  forgot  his  promise  to  fix  up  G.  Her- 
bert with  Helen  Dear.  The  latter,  as  we 
remark  at  the  laundry,  was  closer  to  Van 
Ness  all  night  than  the  ocean  is  to  the  beach, 
and  it  looked  like  the  Kid  was  gonna  have 
a  tough  time  breakin'  'em  up. 

Along  around  eleven,  Miss  Vincent 
calls  Scanlan  aside  and  reminds  him 
that  he  had  better  start  workin'  for  G.  Her- 
bert, because  they  would  all  be  beatin'  it 
for  the  train  in  a  hour.  She  also  give  out 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  249 

that,  if  he  didn't  make  good,  she  was  of? 
him  for  life.  Scanlan  bows — another  trick 
he  copped  from  Van  Ness — and  takes  me 
away  down  at  the  end  of  the  lawn  to  dope 
somethin'  out. 

I  tripped  over  what  I  thought  at  first 
was  a  dead  body  and  me  and  the  Kid  props 
it  up  in  the  light. 

"Ha,  ha!"  it  says.  "Tony  he'sa  laugha  at 
you!  Tony  he'sa  laugha  at  everybody! 
Bomb  Germo!  thisa  fel'  tella  me — ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

The  Kid  grunts  in  disgust,  lets  go  and 
Tony  bounces  back  on  the  lawn. 

"Stewed  to  the  scalp!"  says  Scanlan. 
"Frisk  him!" 

I  run  my  hands  over  Tony  and  bring 
forth  a  bottle  of  gin  and  another  one  of 
bourbon.  The  Kid  looks  'em  over,  finally 
stickin'  'em  both  in  his  coat  pocket. 

"Come  on!"  he  tells  me.  "They's  no 
use  hangin'  around  here.  If  I  don't  get 
back  there,  some  of  them  Wealthy  Willies 


250  KID  SCANLAN 

that  have  been  wishin'  all  night  will  be  one- 
steppin'  with  Miss  Vincent!" 

"But  how  about  G.  Herbert?"  I  says. 

"He's  got  my  best  wishes!"  growls  the 
Kid.  "He's  a  nice  little  feller,  but  that's 
the  best  I  can  do.  What  d'ye  think  I  am — 
Cupid?" 

"Well,  gimme  the  alcohol  then!"  I  says. 
"You  ain't  gonna  fall  off  the  wagon  are 
you,  when — " 

"Shut  up,  Stupid!"  he  butts  in.  "I 
wouldn't  take  a  drink  of  this  stuff  for  what 
Rockefeller  gets  for  overtime!  I  want  to 
get  it  away  from  that  wop,  so's  he'll  have 
somethin'  to  moan  about  when  he  wakes 
up." 

We  went  back  to  the  party,  and  a  couple 
of  dames  standin'  at  the  punch  bowl  calls  to 
the  Kid.  He  always  was  a  riot  with  the 
women!  Helen  Dear  is  there  with  Van 
Ness,  and  he's  got  to  where  he's  pattin'  her 
hand,  while  G.  Herbert  stands  in  back  of 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  251 

'em  lookin'  like  he  wished  he  had  some 
nails  to  bite. 

I  come  to  a  table  and  there's  Miss  Vin- 
cent sittin'  alone  and  she  motions  me  to  sit 
down  with  her — so's  my  back  would  hide 
her  from  the  rest  of  the  bunch.  She  says  a 
little  bit  of  society  went  a  long  ways  with 
her,  and  where  was  the  Kid?  Before  I  can 
answer  her  along  comes  Helen  Dear  and 
she  plumps  down  at  the  table  and  starts  to 
tell  us  what  a  magnificent  man  Mister  Van 
Ness  was.  She  claims  she  never  seen  such 
a  perfect  gentleman  in  her  life.  I  liked 
to  snickered  out  loud  at  the  disappointed 
way  she  pulled  that  one  and  then  the  Kid, 
G.  Herbert  and  Van  Ness  suddenly  comes 
around  a  tree  and  joins  the  party. 

Scanlan  winks  at  Miss  Vincent,  and  she 
looks  at  him  inquirin'ly,  but  he  just  shakes 
his  head.  I  noticed  that  G.  Herbert 
looked  kinda  sad,  and  he  must  have  put  his 
giggler  away  because  he  just  sat  lookin' 


252  KID  SCANLAN 

down  at  the  ground.  Van  Ness  is  full  of 
life — I  never  seen  him  so  cheerful — so  I 
figured  that  while  them  and  the  Kid  was 
alone,  Van  Ness  must  have  told  'em  that 
Helen  Dear  had  proposed  or  accepted  him. 

Finally,  Helen  Dear  looks  at  her  wrist 
watch  and  says  she'll  have  to  tear  herself 
away,  because  the  train  leaves  in  fifteen 
minutes.  She  wastes  five  of  that  throwin' 
soulful  looks  at  Van  Ness  and  he  give  back 
as  good  as  he  got.  G.  Herbert  offers  to 
get  her  wraps,  comin'  to  life  long  enough 
to  make  the  request,  but  Helen  Dear  gives 
him  a  sneerin'  look  and  says  there  was  ser- 
vants there  for  that  purpose.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible throwdown,  and  Van  Ness  nearly 
grinned,  but  G.  Herbert  gamely  tried  a  gig- 
gle that  sounded  like  the  squeak  of  a 
stepped-on  rat. 

While  Helen  Dear  is  gettin'  into  a  coat 
that  couldn't  have  cost  a  nickel  under  five 
thousand  bucks,  the  Kid  gets  up  and  calls 
Van  Ness  and  G.  Herbert  aside.  They 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  253 

was  gone  about  five  minutes.  When  they 
came  back,  Helen  Dear  is  just  puttin'  on 
her  hat  and  suddenly  the  thing  slips  out  of 
her  hands  and  slides  down  over  one  eye. 

Then — excuse  me  a  minute,  I'm  in  con- 
vulsions! I'll  never  forget  it  if  I  live 
to  see  Bryan  vote  against  prohibition! 
There's  Helen  Dear  gettin'  red  in  the  face 
and  strugglin'  with  that  hat  and— 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!"  shrieks  Van  Ness — • 
the  guy  that  had  lost  his  laugher! — "Ha, 
ha,  ha,  ha!"  he  yells,  holdin'  the  chair  so's 
he  can  stand  up  and  pointin'  at  Helen's  hat. 
"You  ought  to  go  in  vaudeville!"  he  hol- 
lers. "You'd  be  a  riot  with  that  act!  Ha, 
ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!" 

Miss  Vincent  gasps,  the  Kid  grins,  and  I 
all  but  fainted.  Here's  this  guy  laughin' 
his  head  off  for  the  first  time  in  ten  years 
and — look  at  the  time  he  picked  to  do  it! 
Sweet  Cookie! 

Helen  Dear  turns  eighteen  shades  of  red 
and  fights  for  her  breath  like  a  fish  when 


254  KID  SCANLAN 

you  drag  it  over  the  side  of  the  boat  Then 
up  steps  little  G.  Herbert.  His  eyes  is 
kinda  glassy,  but  his  face  is  set  and  hard. 
His  spine  is  as  straight  as  a  flag  pole  and  he 
sticks  a  piece  of  glass  over  one  eye,  just  like 
,Van  Ness  used  to  do!  Dignity?  Why  he 
could  have  took  Van  Ness  when  that  guy 
was  right — and  give  him  lessons! 

"What  does  this  mean,  sir!"  he  says, 
walkin'  up  to  Van  Ness  who  is  holdin'  his 
sides  and  fallin'  off  the  chair.  Laugh? 
That  bird  was  in  hysterics! 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  bellers  Van  Ness.  "Get  a 
couple  of  good  camera  men  quick!  Ha, 
ha,  ha,  ha!  It  looks  like  she  got  hit  with  a 
pie!" 

"You  infernal  idiot!"  roars  G.  Herbert. 
"How  dare  you  laugh  at  this  lady?" 

"Oh,  boy!"  answers  Van  Ness,  finally 
rollin'  off  his  chair.  "Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"Come,  Herbert!"  pipes  Helen.  "We 
will  go  back  together  and  my  answer  is 


"EXIT,  LAUGHING"  255 

Yes!  Thank  Heaven  that  man  stands  ex- 
posed in  his  true  character!" 

"Thas'  right!"  nods  Herbert,  waggin'  his, 
head  and  glarin'  at  all  of  us.  "C'mon — 
hie— C'mon,  M'  dear!" 

Somethin'  comes  staggerin'  up  and  grabs 
the  Kid  by  the  arm.  It  was  Tony. 

"Aha!"  he  yells.  "Who'sa  taka  my  bot- 
tle gin,  bottle  bourbon?  Sapristi!  You 
bigga  stifTa,  I— 

The  Kid  gives  him  a  slow  straight  arm,, 
and  Tony  goes  over  the  table  backwards, 
landin'  right  beside  his  master. 

"No  spika  da  Engleesh!"  says  Scanlan, 
as  Tony  disappears. 

I  grabbed  him  by  the  arm. 

"Show  me  them  bottles,"  I  says,  gettin' 
wise  in  a  flash. 

The  Kid  takes  out  two  empty  non-refilla- 
bles  and  tosses  'em  in  the  grass. 

"My!"  he  says,  dreamily.  "How  that 
little  guy  went  to  it!" 


256  KID  SCANLAN 

Toot!  Toot!  Toot!  goes  the  Santa  Fe  flier 
pullin'  out  with  G.  Herbert  and  Helen 
Dear. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha — ho,  ho,  ho, 
ho!"  screams  Van  Ness  from  under  the 
table.  "She  promised — ha,  ha,  ha!  to 
cheer  me  up — hie — ha,  ha,  ha!  and  she — 
hie—certainly — ha,  ha,  ha! — made  good!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM 


^T^HEY  may  be  such  a  thing  as  a  ghost, 
•*•  but  I  don't  believe  it!  At  the  same 
time,  I'm  willin'  to  admit  that  my  feelin's 
in  the  matter  ain't  gonna  prove  the  ruin  of 
the  haunted  house  promoters.  They's  a 
whole  lot  of  things  which  I  look  on  as  plain 
and  simple  bunk,  that  the  average  guy 
studies  at  college.  But  the  reason  I  say 
they  may  be,  is  because  when  me  and  Kid 
Scanlan  come  back  East  this  year  we 
stopped  off  somewheres  in  the  hurrah  for 
prohibition  part  of  the  country  and  was 
showed  over  what  the  advertisin'  matter  ad- 
mitted to  be  the  greatest  bakery  in  the 
world. 

I  think  them  ad  writers  was  modest  fel- 
lers.    That  joint  was  not  only  the  world's 
257 


258  KID  SCANLAN 

greatest  bakery,  it  was  the  world's  greatest 
anything! 

I  never  really  knowed  a  thing  about 
bread,  except  that  you  put  butter  on  it,  un- 
til I  give  that  place  the  up  and  down. 

What  I  don't  know  about  the  staff  of  life 
now  would  never  get  you  through  Yale.  I 
might  go  farther  than  that  and  come  right 
out  with  the  fact  that  I  have  become  a 
abandoned  bread  fiend  and  got  to  have  it 
or  I  foam  at  the  mouth,  since  I  seen  how  it 
was  made  at  this  dough  foundry. 

A  accommodatin'  little  guy  took  hold  of 
me  and  the  Kid  and  showed  us  all  over  the 
different  machine  shops  where  this  here 
bread  was  mixed,  baked  and  what-notted 
for  the  trade.  Our  charmin'  guide  must 
have  come  from  a  family  of  auctioneers 
and  circus  barkers  and  he  never  heard  of  no 
sums  under  ten  or  eleven  thousand  in  his 
life.  He  knowed  more  about  figures  than 
Joe  Grady,  who  once  filled  in  a  summer 
ivith  a  Russian  ballet,  and  'he  had  been 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      259 

wound  up  and  set  to  deliver  chatter  at  the 
rate  of  three  words  a  second,  provided  the 
track  was  fast  and  he  got  off  in  front.  He 
talked  with  his  whole  body,  waggin'  his 
head,  movin'  his  arms  and  shufflin'  his  feet. 
When  he  got  warmed  up  and  goin'  good,  he 
pushed  forward  at  you  with  his  hands  like 
he  was  tryin'  to  insert  his  chatter  right  into 
you. 

He  leads  us  to  a  spot  about  half  a  mile 
from  where  we  come  in,  holds  up  his  hands 
to  Heaven,  coughs,  blows  his  nose  and  gives 
a  little  shiver. 

"Over  there!"  he  bellers,  without  no 
warnin'.  "Over  there  is  our  marvelous, 
mastadon,  mixin'  shop.  We  use  284,651 
pounds  of  scrupulously  sifted  and  freshly 
flavored  flour,  one  million  cakes  of  elegant 
yeast  and  156,390  pounds  of  bakin'  powder 
each  and  every  year!  We  employ  865  mag- 
nificent men  there  and  they  get  munificent 
money.  We  don't  permit  the  use  of  drugs, 
alcoholics,  tobacco  or  unions!  The  men 


260  KID  SCANLAN 

works  eight  easy  hours  a  delightful  day,  six 
days  a  week  and  they  are  happy,  hardy  and 
healthy!  Promotion  is  regular,  rapid  and 
regardless!  Our  employees  is  all  loyal, 
likable  and  Lithuanians!  They  own  their 
own  cottages,  clothes  and  chickens,  bein' 
thrifty,  temperate  and— 

"Tasty!"  I  yells.  I  couldn't  keep  it  in  no 
longer! 

"What?"  snaps  the  little  guy,  kinda  sore. 

"Lay  off,  Stupid!"  says  the  Kid  to  me, 
with  a  openly  admirin'  glance  at  the  runt. 
"Go  on  with  your  story,"  he  nods  to  him. 
"Never  mind  Senseless,  here,  I'm  gettin' 
every  word  of  it!" 

The  little  hick  glares  at  me  and  points  to 
a  shack  on  the  left. 

"Over  there,"  he  pipes.  "Over  there  is 
our  shippin'  plant  where  the  freshly  fin- 
ished and  amazingly  appetizin'  loaves  are 
carefully  counted  and  accurately  assem- 
bled! For  this  painstakin'  performance 
we  employ  523  more  men.  None  but  the 


•     THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      261 

skilled,  superior  and — and — eh — Scandina- 
vian are  allowed  in  that  diligent  depart- 
ment, and  each  and  every  day  a  grand,  glor- 
ious total  of  ten  thousand  lovely  loaves  is 
let  loose  with  nothin'  missin'  but  the  con- 
sumer's contented  cackle  as  he  eagerly  eats! 
We  even  garnish  each  loaf  with  a  gener- 
ous gob  of  Gazoopis — our  own  ingenuous 
invention — before  they  finally  flitter  forth! 
Would  you  like  to  see  the  shop?" 

"I  certainly  wish  /  could  sling  chatter 
like  that!"  answers  the  Kid  with  a  sigh. 
"But  I  guess  it's  all  in  the  way  a  guy  was 
brung  up.  Gobs  of  generous  Gazoopis!" 
he  mutters,  turnin'  the  words  over  in  his 
mouth  like  they  was  sweet  morsels.  "Gobs 
of  generous  Gazoopis!  Oh,  boy!" 

The  little  guy  throws  out  his  chest  and 
bows  with  a  "I-thank-you"  look  all  over 
his  face.  He  got  me  sore  just  watchin' 
him.  Y'know  that  runt  hated  himself! 

"Say!"  I  says  to  him.  "If  all  that  stuff 
you  claim  for  this  roll  foundry  is  on  the 


262  KID  SCANLAN 

level,  it  must  take  a  lot  of  dough  to  run  it, 
eh?" 

"Are  you  tryin'  to  kid  me?"  he  sneers. 

"No!"  I  comes  back.  "But  speakin'  of 
bakeries,  I'd  sacrifice  my  sacred  silk  socks 
for  a  flash  at  them  skilled  Scandinavians  as- 
semblin'  that  bread,  before  I  move  on  to 
nasty  New  York!" 

The  Kid  slaps  me  on  the  back  and  grins. 

"Go  on,  Foolish!"  he  says.  "You  got 
this  bird  on  the  ropes!"  He  turns  to  the 
runt.  "All  I  want,"  he  goes  on,  "is  one 
peep  at  them  likable  Lithuanians — can  I 
git  that?" 

"You  guys  is  as  funny  as  pneumonia  to 
me!"  snorts  the  little  guy,  gettin'  red  in  the 
face.  "That  stuff  may  pass  for  comedy  in 
Yonkers  or  wherever  you  hicks  blowed 
in  from,  but  it  don't  git  no  laugh  outa  me! 
D'ye  wanna  see  this  shop  or  don't  you — yes 
or  no?" 

"Let's  go!"  I  tells  him.  "You  got  me 
all  worked  up  about  it!" 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      263 

"Same  here!"  says  the  Kid.  "I  only 
wish  I  could  talk  like  you  can,  but  I  guess 
it's  a  gift,  ain't  it?" 

The  little  guy  grunts  somethin'  and  nods 
for  us  to  fall  in  behind  him,  and  we  lock 
step  along  till  we  come  to  another  joint 
from  which  was  issuin'  what  I'll  lay  eight 
to  five  was  all  the  noise  in  the  world. 
How  they  ever  gathered  it  up  and  got  it  in 
the  buildin'  I  don't  know,  but  I  do  know 
it  was  there!  If  you'd  take  a  bowlin'  alley 
on  Turnverein  night,  a  boiler  factory 
workin'  on  a  rush  order  and  the  battle  of 
Gettysburg,  wind  'em  up  and  set  'em  all  off 
at  once,  you  might  get  a  faint  idea  of  how 
the  inmates  of  that  buildin'  was  ruinin'  the 
peace  and  quiet  of  the  surroundin'  country. 
A  dynamite  explosion  in  the  next  block 
would  have  attracted  as  much  attention  as 
a  whisper  in  a  steamfittin'  shop. 

"I  thought  the  war  was  all  over!"  hol- 
lers the  Kid,  holdin'  his  ears.  "Has  the 
police  been  tipped  off  about  this?" 


264  KID  SCANLAN 

"What  d'ye  mean  the  police?"  screams 
back  the  runt.  "That  there  is  the  mixin' 
and  bakin'  shop." 

"Yeh?"  I  cuts  in.  "Well,  I  don't  know 
what  them  skilled  Scandinavians  of  yours 
is  at,  but,  believe  me,  they're  try  in'  all 
right!" 

The  runt  sneers  at  us. 

"You  must  be  a  fine  pair  of  hicks!"  he 
says.  "D'ye  mean  to  say  you  never  heard 
of  the  Eureka  Mixin'  and  Bakin'  ma- 
chine?" 

"I  can  hear  it  now,  all  right!"  I  tells  him, 
noddin'  to  the  buildin'  where  the  boiler- 
makers  was  havin'  a  field  day,  "but— 

"Sufferin'  salmon,  what  boobs!"  he  inter- 
rupts me.  Then  he  gives  us  both  the  once 
over  and  starts  his  sneerer  workin'  again. 
"Say!"  he  asks  me.  "Who  d'ye  like  to  win 
the  battle  of  Santiago  and  d'ye  think  Lin- 
coln will  git  elected  again?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  comes  back.  "I'm 
gonna  vote  for  Jefferson  myself!"  I  looks 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      265 

him  right  in  the  eye.  "I  think  Washing- 
ton is  a  sucker  to  hang  around  Valley  Forge 
all  winter,  don't  you?"  I  asks  him. 

"Couple  of  small  time  cut-ups,  eh?"  he 
says,  shakin'  his  head.  "Where  d'ye  come 
from?" 

"New  York,"  the  Kid  tells  him,  "and 
listen — will  you  do  me  a  favor  and  let's 
hear  some  more  about  them  likable  Lith- 
uanians and  gobs  of  generous  Gazoopis?" 

"I  figured  you  come  from  some  hick  burg 
like  New  York,"  says  the  runt,  ignorin'  the 
Kid's  request.  "I  can  spot  a  guy  from  New 
York  ten  miles  away!  He  knocks  Brook- 
lyn, thinks  walkin'  up  Broadway  is  seein' 
life,  was  born  in  Memphis  and  is  the  only 
thing  that  keeps  the  mail  order  houses  in 
Oshkosh  from  goin'  to  the  wall!  New 
Yorkers,  eh?"  he  winds  up  with  another 
insultin'  sneer.  "I  got  you!" 

"Gobs  of  generous  Gazoopis!"  mutters 
the  Kid  like  he's  in  a  trance.  "Sweet 
Papa!" 


•26,6  KID  SCANLAN 

The  runt  looks  at  him. 

"How  does  that  bird  fool  the  alms- 
house?"  he  asks  me. 

I  bent  down  so's  I  could  whisper  in  the 
side  of  his  little  dome.  Them  skilled  Scan- 
dinavians in  the  buildin'  had  gone  crazy  or 
else  some  of  the  night  shift  had  come  in 
with  more  boilers  and  things  to  hit  'em 
with. 

"That's  Kid  Scanlan,  welterweight  cham- 
pion of  the  world!"  I  hisses  in  his  ear. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughs  the  runt.  "That's  who 
he'd  like  to^  be,  you  mean!" 

"Our  employees  is  all  hale,  hearty  and 
hilarious!"  grins  the  'Kid  at  him.  "We  pay 
'em  off  in  money,  music  and  mush! 
Wow!" 

"If  that  big  stiff  is  tryin'  to  kid  me,"  be- 
gins the  runt,  gettin'  red  again,  "he— 

"All  right,  all  right!"  I  butts  in  quickly. 
"Don't  let's  have  no  violence.  Show  us 
what  makes  that  shop  go,  and  we'll  grab 
the  next  rattler  for  New  York.  Y'know 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      267 

the  Kid  fights  Battlin'  Edwards  on  the 
twenty-first  and— 

"Are  you  on  the  level  with  that  stuff?"  in- 
terrupts the  runt,  still  lookin'  at  the  Kid. 
"Is  that  really  Kid  Scanlan?" 

I  calls  the  Kid  over. 

"Kid,"  I  says,  "meet  Mister— er— " 

"Sapp,"  says  the  runt.  "Joe  Sapp!" 
He  sticks  out  his  hand.  "I  remember 
you  now,"  he  tells  the  Kid.  "I  seen  you 
fight  some  tramp  in  Fort  Wayne  last  year. 
I  think  you  hit  this  guy  with  everything  but 
the  referee  and  that's  why  I  like  your  work. 
When  /  send  in  three  bucks  for  a  place  to 
sit  down  at  a  box  fight,  I  expect  to  see  as- 
sault and  batter  and  not  the  Virginia  Reel! 
Why—" 

"Not  to  give  you  a  short  answer,"  I  butts 
in,  "but  how  about  the  insane  asylum  over 
there?"  I  points  to  the  buildin'.  "Do  we 
see  that  or  don't  we?" 

Right  away  he  straightens  up  and  sticks 
his  finger  at  it. 


2'68  KID  SCANLAN 

"It  takes  exactly  twelve,  temptin'  minutes 
to  completely  compose  and  accurately  as- 
semble a  loaf!"  he  shouts.  "We  never 
heard  of  waste,  and  efficiency  was  born  in 
this  factory.  The  only  thing  that  loafs  here 
is  the  bread!  Each  eager  employee  has  his 
own  particular  part  to  perform  and  that  ac- 
counts for  the  amazin'  and  awesome  ac- 
curacy with  which  we  bake  the  beautiful 
bread.  Step  this  way!" 

"Believe  me!"  says  the  Kid,  "I  wish  I  had 
a  line  of  patter  like  that!  'Amazin'  and 
awesome  accuracy'!"  he  repeats.  "Do  you 
get  that?" 

Right  then  about  a  dozen  dames  and  their 
consorts  come  breezin'  in  the  main  entrance. 
Offhand,  they  look  like  the  hicks  that  gives 
the  "Seein'  New  York"  busses  a  play,  and 
when  the  runt  spots  them  he  ducks  and 
grabs  my  arm. 

"C'mon!"  he  says.  "Shake  it  up!  If 
them  boobs  see  me,  I'll  have  to  show  'em  all 
over  the  plant!  That's  a  gang  of  them 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      269 

Snooks'  Tourists,  seein'  the  world  for  four- 
teen eighty-five  a-piece,  breakfast  at  hotel 
on  third  mornin'  out  and  bus  from  train  in- 
cluded! Most  of  them  is  wisenheimers 
from  Succotash  Crossin',  Mo. ;  and  they're 
out  to  see  that  they  don't  get  cheated. 
They're  gonna  see  everything  like  it  says 
on  the  ticket,  and  some  of  'em  is  ready  to 
sue  Snooks  because  they  got  somethin'  in 
their  eye  from  lookin'  out  the  train  window 
and  missed  eight  telegraph  poles  and  a 
water  tank  on  account  of  it.  The  rest  of 
them  sits  around  knockin'  everything  on 
general  principles  and  claimin'  the  thing  is 
a  fake.  Then  there'll  be  one  old  guy  in  the 
party  with  a  trick  horn  he  holds  to  his  ear, 
and,  when  I  get  all  through  tellin'  'em 
about  the  mixin'  shop,  the  deef  guy  will  say, 
'Hey?  What  was  that  about  the  airship 
again?'  There  will  also  be  three  veteran 
school-teachers  which  will  want  samples  of 
the  bread  and  hide  out  a  couple  of  rolls  on 
the  side.  And  then  one  young  married 


270  KID  SCANLAN 

couple  which  started  sayin'  Wonderful  P 
when  the  train  pulled  out  of  the  old  home 
town  and  which  has  said  nothin'  else  but 
that  since!  No,  sir!  I'm  off  them  tourists 
— c'mon,  sneak  around  here!" 

He  boldly  walks  into  the  buildin'  where 
all  the  noise  is  comin'  from,  and  not  wantin' 
to  act  yellah  before  strangers  we  followed 
him  in.  They  was  a  lot  of  things  in  there 
and  if  you  ever  make  the  town,  Joe  Sapp 
will  show  'em  to  you.  He  has  to,  in  order 
to  eat.  But  the  only  thing  I  remember 
was  the  way  them  lovely,  luxurious  loaves 
was  artistically  assembled,  and  I'll  remem- 
ber that  little  item  till  the  insurance  com- 
pany pays  off! 

They  was  a  great,  big  machine  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  and  that  was  the  thing 
that  was  makin'  the  bread  and  noise.  A 
half  dozen  of  them  skilled  Scandinavians 
stood  away  up  on  a  gallery  at  one  end  and 
their  job  was  of  a  pourin'  nature.  They 
was  all  dressed  in  white  and  wore  little  trick 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      271 

hats  on  which  it  said  this,  "No  Human 
Hands  Touch  It."  I  didn't  know  whether 
it  meant  the  skilled  Scandinavians  or  the 
beautiful  bread. 

"The  most  marvelous,  magnificent,  mam- 
moth invention  of  the  age!"  bawls  the  runt 
so's  we  could  hear  him  over  the  noise. 
"Here  is  where  the  beautiful  bread  is  bliss- 
fully baked  by  the  wonderful  workmen! 
This  machine  cost  the  sensational  sum  of 
half  a  million  dollars,  and  its  capacity  is  a 
trifle  over  five  hundred  finely  finished  lus- 
cious loaves  each  and  every— 

That's  all  I  heard  because  I  went  in  a 
trance  from  watchin'  the  thing.  I  never 
seen  nothin'  like  it  before  and  I  know  darn 
well  I  never  will  again.  Listen!  Them 
skilled  Scandinavians  poured  in  raw  wheat 
at  one  end  of  this  here  machine,  and  it  come 
out  the  other  end,  steamin'  hot  bread! 
Some  machine,  eh?  Not  only  that,  but 
when  it  come  out,  it  was  baked,  labelled, 
wrapped  in  oil  paper  and  smellin'  most 


272  KID  SCANLAN 

heavenly  from  that  generous  gob  of  Ga- 
zoopis,  as  the  runt  said. 

I  dragged  the  'Kid  outside  and  we 
started  for  the  railroad  station  without  com- 
ment. As  we  passed  out  the  door,  we  heard 
the  runt  screamin',  probably  thinkin'  we 
was  still  there. 

"One  section  reduces  the  wheat  to  flour, 
another  mixes  the  dough,  it  passes  on  to  the 
steam  ovens  and  then  what  happens? 
Bread!  Over  here—" 

The  Kid  stops  all  of  a  sudden,  takes  a 
hitch  in  his  belt  and  looks  back  at  the  shop. 

"Hell!"  he  says.  "They  can't  make  no 
bread  like  that!" 

"You  seen  'em  do  it,  didn't  you?"  I  asks 
him,  although  I  was  thinkin'  the  same  thing 
myself. 

"Even  at  that,"  he  comes  back,  "I  don't 
believe  it!" 

We  walks  on  a  little  ways,  and  the  Kid 
stops  again. 

"I  certainly  wish  I  could  talk  like  that 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      273 

little  runt!"  he  shoots  out.  "Take  it  from 
me,  that  bird  is  there  forty  ways.  He's  got 
Webster  lookin'  like  a  dummy!" 

He  keeps  on  mutterin'  to  himself  as  we 
breeze  up  to  the  station,  and,  when  I  lean 
over  to  get  an  earful  I  hear  him  sayin', 
"They're  all  simple,  sassy  and  suckers! 
We  feed  'em  oranges,  oatmeal  and  olives!" 

So,  as  I  said  before,  they  may  be  such  a 
thing  as  ghosts.  After  watchin'  that  bread 
bakin'  machine  at  play  I'll  go  further  than 
that.  There  may  be  anything! 

One  day  at  the  trainin'  camp,  a  couple 
of  weeks  after  we  hit  New  York,  a  handler 
comes  to  me  and  says  they's  two  guys  out- 
side that  wants  to  see  the  Kid.  I  hopped 
out  to  take  a  flash  at  'em,  but  the  Kid  has 
been  reached,  and  when  I  come  on  the 
scene  he's  shakin'  hands  with  'em.  One 
of  these  guys  was  dressed  the  way  the  pub- 
lic thinks  bookmakers  and  con  men  doll  up 
and  he  wore  one  of  them  sweet,  trustin'  in- 
nocent faces  like  you  see  on  the  villain  in  a 


274  KID  SCANLAN 

dime  novel.  He  looked  to  me  like  he'd 
steal  a  sunflower  seed  from  a  blind  par- 
rot. 

But  it  was  the  other  guy  that  was  the 
riot  to  me. 

He  was  tall  and  lanky,  dressed  all  in 
black  like  the  pallbearer  the  undertaker 
furnishes,  and  the  saddest-lookin'  boob  I 
ever  seen  in  my  life!  If  he  wasn't  the 
original  old  Kid  Kill-Joy,  he  was  the  bird 
that  rehearsed  him,  believe  me!  Y'know 
just  from  lookin'  at  this  guy,  a  man  would 
get  to  thinkin'  about  his  past  life,  the  time 
he  throwed  the  baby  down  the  well  when 
but  a  playful  child,  how  old  his  parents  was 
gettin'  and  the  time  Shorty  Ellison  run  off 
with  the  red-headed  dame  that  lived  over 
the  butcher's.  You  wished  you  had  saved 
your  money  or  somebody  else's,  suddenly 
findin'  out  that  it  was  a  tough  world 
where  a  poor  man  didn't  have  a  China- 
man's chance,  and  you  wondered  if  death 
by  drownin'  was  painful  or  not. 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      275 

That's  the  way  it  made  you  feel  when  you 
just  looked  at  this  guy.  Ever  see  one  of 
'em? 

He  had  a  trick  of  sighin'.  Not  just  ordi- 
nary heaves,  but  deep,  dark  and  gloomy 
sighs  that  took  all  the  life  out  of  whoever  he 
sighed  at.  If  they  had  that  bird  over  in 
Europe,  they  never  would  have  been  no 
war,  because  when  he  started  sighin',  no- 
body would  have  had  enough  ambition  left 
to  fight.  Every  time  he  opened  his  mouth 
I  thought  he  was  gonna  say,  "Merciful 
Heaven  help  us  all!"  or  somethin'  like  that. 
But  he  didn't.  He  just  sighed. 

The  Kid  tells  me  the  riot  of  color  was 
Honest  Dan  Leduc,  and  that  he  was  the 
best  behaved  guy  that  ever  spent  a  week  end 
in  Sing  Sing,  where  he  had  gone  every  now 
and  then  to  study  jail  conditions  at  the  re- 
quest of  thirteen  men,  the  same  bein'  a  judge 
and  a  jury.  The  sad-lookin'  boob  was  Pro- 
fessor Pietro  Parducci,  the  well  known 
medium. 


276  KID  SCANLAN 

"Medium  what?"  I  says,  when  the  Kid 
pulls  that  one. 

The  Kid  frowns  at  me  and  turns  to  his 
new  found  friends. 

"Don't  mind  Foolish  here,"  he  tells  'em, 
"he's  got  the  idea  that  everything  is 
crooked.  He  thinks  the  war  was  a  frame- 
up  for  the  movies,  and  the  Kaiser  got  dou- 
ble-crossed, but  he  ain't  a  bad  guy  at  that. 
He  knows  more  about  makin'  money  than 
a  lathe  hand  at  the  mint."  He  jerks  his 
thumb  at  Honest  Dan  and  swings  around 
on  me.  "This  guy  and  me  was  brung  up 
together,"  he  explains,  "and  before  I  went 
into  the  fight  game  we  was  as  close  as  ninety- 
nine  and  a  hundred.  He's  been  all  over 
the  world  since  then,  he  says  so  himself,  but 
just  now  he's  up  against  it.  It  seems  he  was 
runnin'  a  pool  room  on  Twenty-Eighth 
Street  and  he  give  the  wrong  winner  of  the 
Kentucky  Derby  to  the  precinct  captain. 
The  next  mornin'  the  captain  give  every  cop 
in  the  station  house  a  axe  and  Dan's  ad- 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      277 

dress.  His  friend  here  is  a  now,  whosthis 
and—" 

Honest  Dan  pulls  what  I  bet  he  thought 
was  a  pleasant  smile.  It  reminded  me 
more  of  a  laughin'  hyena. 

"One  minute!"  he  butts  in.  "My  friend, 
the  world-renowed  Professor  Parducci,  is 
a  medium,  a  mystic  and  a  swami.  He's  the 
seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son,  born  with  a 
veil  and  spent  two  years  in  Indiana  with 
the  yogi.  He  can  peer  into  the  future  or 
gaze  back  at  the  past.  He  is  in  direct  com- 
munication with  the  spirits  of  the  dear  de- 
parted and  as  a  crystal  gazer  and  palmist 
he  stands  alone!" 

"That's  a  great  line  of  patter,  Dan,"  says 
the  Kid,  "but  we  met  a  guy  on  the  trip  back 
that  had  the  English  language  layin'  down 
and  rollin'  over  when  he  snapped  his  fin- 
gers. Generous  gobs  of  Gazoopis  and  lik- 
able, loyal  Lithuanians!  Can  you  tie 
that?" 

I  was  still  lookin'  over  the  gloomy  guy 


278  KID  SCANLAN 

with  the  name  that  sounded  like  a  brand  of 
olive  oil,  and  I  decided  he  was  the  bunk.  I 
asked  him  could  he  tell  my  fortune,  and 
he  draws  himself  up  and  claims  he's  not  in 
harmony  just  now.  That  was  the  tip-off  to 
me,  and  I  figures  he  has  come  out  to  take 
the  Kid  for  his  bankroll.  I  knowed  he 
couldn't  tell  no  fortunes  the  minute  I  seen 
him.  He  didn't  look  to  me  as  if  he  could 
tell  his  own  name,  and  I  bet  all  the  spirits 
he  ever  communicated  with  was  called  pri- 
vate stock.  The  end  of  his  nose  was  as  red 
as  a  four  alarm  fire  and  the  back  of  his  col- 
lar was  all  wore  off  from  where  he  had  kept 
throwin'  back  his  head  so's  the  saloon  keep- 
ers could  meet  expenses.  Honest  Dan  said 
he  couldn't  speak  much  English,  so  I  guess 
he  had  stopped  at  "I'll  have  the  same"  and 
"Here's  a  go!" 

Well,  I  had  the  right  dope,  because  the 
next  week  the  Kid  goes  down  to  the  bank 
and  draws  out  five  thousand  bucks  to  set 
Honest  Dan  and  the  professor  up  in  busi- 


279 

ness  with.  They  was  gonna  open  a  swell 
fortune-tellin'  joint  on  Fifth  Avenue.  I 
said  the  thing  sounded  crooked  to  me,  and 
the  Kid  got  sore  and  told  me  Honest  Dan 
couldn't  do  nothin'  like  that,  it  wasn't  in 
him.  He  showed  me  where  Dan  had  al- 
ways got  time  off  for  good  conduct,  no  mat- 
ter what  jail  he  was  in. 

The  professor  brightens  up  for  a  minute 
when  the  Kid  hands  over  the  roll,  but  after 
that  he  went  right  back  into  the  gloom 
again. 

Honest  Dan  gives  the  Kid  a  receipt  for 
the  sucker  money  and  him  and  his  trick 
medium  goes  on  their  way.  After  a  while, 
I  forgot  about  'em.  The  Kid  fights  Ed- 
wards and  a  couple  of  more  tramps  and 
knocks  'em  all  kickin'  and  we're  just  gonna 
grab  one  of  them  "See  America  Firsts"  for 
the  coast  when  some  club  promoter  goes 
crazy  and  offers  us  ten  thousand  iron  men 
to  fight  Joe  Ryan.  The  Kid  would  have 
fought  the  Marines  for  half  of  that,  so  we 


280  KID  SCANLAN 

run  all  the  way  to  the  club  and  signed  arti- 
cles whiles  the  guy  that  hung  up  the  purse 
was  still  wishin'  he  had  stayed  on  the  wagon. 

The  Kid  had  got  Professor  Parducci  to 
fix  him  up  with  a  few  love  charms  and 
owls'  ears  by  which  he  was  gonna  make 
himself  solid  with  Miss  Vincent.  In  fact 
Scanlan  fell  so  hard  for  the  medium  stuff 
that  when  the  professor  told  him  to  get  at  all 
cost  a  lock  of  Miss  Vincent's  hair  clipped  at 
eighteen  minutes  after  eleven  on  a  rainy 
Sunday  night,  he  writes  out  to  her  and  asks 
her  to  send  him  a  lock  cut  just  that  way ! 

When  he  wasn't  pesterin'  the  professor 
on  how  to  win  the  movie  queen,  he  was 
goin'  around  mutterin',  "Loyal,  likeable 
Lithuanians  and  generous  gobs  of  Ga- 
zoopis!"  until  the  newspaper  guys  wrote 
that  Kid  Scanlan  would  be  a  mark  for  the 
first  good  boy  he  fought,  because  like  every- 
body else  that  was  a  sudden  success,  he  had 
took  to  usin'  stimulants  which  is  only  sold 
on  a  doctor's  prescription.  On  the  level, 


he'd  git  a  wad  of  paper  and  sit  around  all 
night  with  a  dictionary,  wrkin'  down  all  the 
words  that  begin  with  the  same  letter  and 
then  he'd  git  up  and  repeat  that  stuff  for  a 
hour. 

One  afternoon  we  went  downtown  to  look 
over  this  joint  run  by  Honest  Dan  and  the 
professor.  It  was  in  one  of  them  studio 
buildin's  on  Fifth  Avenue  near  Twenty- 
Eighth  Street,  and  the  rent  they  was  payin' 
for  it  would  have  kept  the  army  in  rubber 
heels  for  six  years.  They's  a  long  line  of 
autos  outside  and  the  inmates  was  streamin' 
in  and  out  of  the  place  like  a  crowd  goin' 
to  see  the  beloved  rector  laid  out.  Some  of 
the  dames  would  be  familiar  to  you,  if 
you've  been  readin'  the  box  scores  in  the 
latest  divorce  melees,  or  the  lineup  of  the 
committee  for  the  aid  of  the  Esquimaux 
victims  of  the  war. 

We  get  in  a  elevator,  and,  floatin'  up  to 
the  roof,  walk  down  what  would  have  been 
a  fire  trap  on  the  East  Side,  and  here  we 


282  KID  SCANLAN 

are  at  Professor  Parducci's  Temple  of  the 
Inner  Star.  A  couple  of  West  Indian  hall 
boys,  who's  gag  line  was  "Say-hib,"  lets  us 
in.  They  was  dressed  in  sheets  and  had 
towels  twisted  around  their  heads  and 
smelled  strongly  of  gin.  Pretty  soon  Hon- 
est Dan  comes  out  and  shakes  hands  all 
around.  Except  for  his  face,  you'd  never 
know  it  was  the  same  guy.  His  hair  is 
brushed  all  the  way  back  like  the  guys 
that  poses  for  the  underwear  ads  and  he's 
dressed  in  a  black  suit  that  fit  him  better 
than  most  of  his  skin.  In  his  shirt  front 
they's  a  diamond  that  looked  like  a  young 
arc  light,  and  he  had  enough  gems  on  his 
hands  to  make  J.  P.  Morgan  gnash  his 
teeth. 

He  told  me  that  him  and  the  professor 
wasn't  doin'  no  more  business  than  a  guy 
would  do  in  Hades  with  the  ice  water  con- 
cession, and  that  Barnum  was  wrong  when 
he  said  they  was  a  sucker  born  every  min- 
ute. Honest  Dan  said  his  figures  showed 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      283 

there  was   about  two  born   every  second. 

He  leads  us  into  a  great  big  hall  that  was 
rilled  with  statues,  pictures,  rugs,  sofas, 
women  and  fatheads.  The  furnishin's  of 
this  joint  would  make  Buckin'ham  Palace 
look  like  a  stable.  It  must  have  ruined 
the  Kid's  five  thousand  just  to  lay  in 
scenery  for  that  one  room  alone.  The 
statues  and  pictures  was  nearly  all  devoted 
to  one  subject,  and  that  was  why  should 
people  wear  clothes — especially  women? 
The  victims  is  all  lollin'  around  on  them 
plush  sofas,  drinkin'  tea  and  lookin'  like  a 
ten-year-old  kid  at  church  or  a  guy  waitin' 
in  the  doctor's  office  to  find  out  if  he's  got 
consumption  or  chilblains.  It  was  as  quiet 
as  a  Sunday  in  Philadelphia  and  they  was 
also  a  very  strong  smell  of  burnin'  glue, 
which  Honest  Dan  said  was  sacred  incense 
that  always  had  to  be  used  by  the  professor 
before  he  could  work. 

Among  the  decorations  was  a  very  large 
dame  sittin'  over  in  a  corner  dressed  within 


284  KID  SCANLAN 

a  inch  of  her  life.  I  suppose  she  had  ears, 
a  neck  and  hands,  but  you  couldn't  tell  right 
away  whether  she  had  or  not,  because  them 
parts  of  her  anatomy,  as  the  feller  says,  was 
buried  under  a  carload  of  diamonds.  You 
could  see  by  her  face  that  at  one  time  she 
had  probably  been  a  swell-lookin'  dame, 
but  them  days  was  all  over.  Still,  she  was 
makin'  a  game  try  at  comin'  back,  and  from 
her  complexion  she  must  have  been  kept 
busy  day  and  night  openin'  bottles  and  cans 
signed  on  the  outside  by  Lillian  Russell  and 
etc. 

This  dame  was  havin'  the  best  time  of 
anybody  in  the  joint.  She  was  sittin'  up 
very  straight  and  solemn  with  both  chins 
restin'  in  her  glitterin'  hands  and  from  the 
look  in  her  eyes  some  Sunday  paper  had 
just  claimed  she  was  the  best  lookin'  woman 
in  America  and  the  like. 

A  guy  wouldn't  have  to  be  no  Sherlock 
Holmes  to  see  that  this  was  the  bird  that 
was  bein'  readied  for  the  big  killin'  by  Hon- 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      285 

est  Dan  and  his  trick  professor.  The  rest 
of  them  was  just  what  you  might  call  the 
chorus. 

Sittin'  right  beside  the  stout  party  was  a 
kid  that  had  just  dropped  in  from  the  cover 
of  a  magazine.  She  was  the  kind  of  female 
that  could  come  down  to  breakfast  with  the 
mumps  and  her  hair  in  curl  papers,  fry 
the  egg  on  the  wrong  side  and  yet  make  the 
lucky  guy  across  the  table  go  out  whistlin' 
and  pityin'  his  unwed  friends.  You  know 
how  them  dames  look  when  they  have  give 
some  time  to  dollin'  up,  don't  you?  Well, 
this  one  had  everything;  take  it  from  me, 
she  was  a  knockout!  She's  tappin'  the 
floor  with  a  classy  little  foot  and  tryin'  to 
see  can  she  pull  a  silk  handkerchief  apart 
with  her  bare  hands,  the  while  registerin' 
this,  uThis-medium-thing-is-the-bunk-and- 
I-wish-I-was-out-of-here !" 

I  doped  her  as  the  stout  dame's  daughter, 
hittin'  .1000  on  the  guess  as  I  found  out 
later. 


286  KID  SCANLAN 

"Well,"  whispers  Honest  Dan  to  the  Kid, 
"what  d'ye  think  of  the  place?" 

"Some  joint!"  says  the  Kid.  "Listen — 
I  got  a  new  one.  The  most  magnificently, 
male  mauler  on  earth!  How's  that — poor, 
eh?" 

"What  does  it  mean?"  asks  Honest  Dan. 

"It  means  me,  Stupid!"  pipes  the  Kid. 
"I'm  havin'  some  cards  made  up  with  that 
on  it.  The  sagacious,  sanguine  and  scan- 
dalous Scanlan,  welterweight  walloper  of 
the  world!  Where's  the  professor?" 

"Sssh!"  whispers  Honest  Dan.  "Lay  off 
that  professor  gag  here.  That's  small  town 
stuff — he's  a  mahatma  now!  He's  in  one  of 
his  silences,  but  if  you  keep  quiet  I'll  take 
you  around  and  show  you  how  he  works." 

He  takes  us  through  a  little  door  that 
leads  into  a  dark  room  which  was  a  steal 
on  the  old  chamber  of  horrors  at  the  Eden 
Musee.  It  was  full  of  ghost  pictures 
drawed  by  artists  who  had  no  use  for  pro- 
hibition, and  they  was  plenty  of  skulls  and 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      287 

stuff  like  that  layin'  around  where  they 
would  do  the  most  good.  At  the  far  end 
is  a  small  wire  gratin'  with  a  Morris  chair 
on  the  other  side  of  it.  Honest  Dan  ex- 
plains that  that's  where  the  come-ons  sit 
while  the  professor  massages  their  soul. 
They  never  see  him,  Dan  figurin'  in  that 
way  it  would  be  harder  to  pick  the  profes- 
sor out  at  police  headquarters  when  the  dis- 
trict attorney  got  around  to  him.  We 
hadn't  been  there  a  minute,  when  the  cur- 
tain at  the  other  end  of  the  room  opens  and 
in  blows  the  stout  dame,  floppin'  down  in 
the  chair  with  a  sigh  as  the  professor  pulls 
open  the  grate  to  feed  her  the  oil.  Dan 
pulls  us  back  in  the  dark,  and  I  notice  she 
was  so  excited  that  she  shook  all  over  like  a 
ten  cent  portion  of  cornstarch  or  Instant 
Desserto  and  her  breath  was  comin'  in  short 
little  gasps. 

Honest  Dan  is  takin'  a  inventory  of  the 
couple  of  quarts  of  diamonds  she  wore  and 
figurin'  the  list  price  on  his  shirt  cuffs. 


288  KID  SCANLAN 

When  he  got  through,  he  dug  me  in  the 
ribs  and  says  it  looks  like  a  big  winter. 

The  professor  starts  to  talk  with  a  strong 
Ellis  Island  dialect,  tellin'  the  dame  that 
he's  just  been  in  a  trance,  give  the  sacred 
crystal  the  once  over  and  took  up  her  case 
with  a  few  odd  ghosts.  The  result  was  that 
a  spirit  which  was  in  the  know  had  just 
give  him  a  tip  that  she  was  no  less  than  the 
tenth  regular  reincarnation  of  Cleopatra, 
who  did  a  big  time  act  in  one  with  a  guy 
called  Marc  Anthony  which  was  now  doin' 
a  single  or  had  jumped  to  the  movies  or 
somethin'  like  that. 

The  stout  dame  gets  up  off  the  chair  and 
waves  her  handkerchief. 

"Merciful  Heavens!"  she  remarks  loudly. 
"I  knew  it!" 

Then  she  pulls  a  funny  fall  and  faints  I 

The  professor  hisses  at  Dan  to  get  him  a 
cigarette,  and  the  West  Indian  hall  boys 
drag  the  stout  dame  into  the  chair  from 
which  she  had  slipped  followin'  the  profes- 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      289 

sor's  sure-fire  stuff  about  Cleopatra.  He 
snatches  a  few  drags  out  of  the  cigarette  be- 
fore the  dame  comes  to  and  when  she  does, 
he  goes  on  and  says  yes  she  is  Cleopatra,  they 
ain't  no  doubt  about  that  part  of  it  and  she 
must  have  noticed  the  strange  power  she 
had  over  men  all  her  life,  hadn't  she?  The 
stout  dame  sighs  and  nods  her  head.  The 
professor  then  tells  her  that  she  has  been  in 
wrong  and  unhappy  all  her  life,  because  she 
had  never  met  her  mate.  The  same  bein' 
a  big,  husky,  red-blooded  cave  man  which 
would  club  her  senseless  and  carry  her  off 
to  his  lair.  Had  she  ever  met  anybody 
like  that?  The  stout  dame  says  not  lately, 
but  when  poor  Henry  and  her  had  first  got 
wed  he  was  a  Saturday  night  ale-hound 
and  once  or  twice  he  had — but  never  mind, 
she  won't  speak  ill  of  the  dead.  The  pro- 
fessor says  he  can  see  that  nobody  of  the 
real  big-league  calibre  has  crossed  her  path 
as  yet  and  that  her  husband's  spirit  had  told 
him  in  confidence  only  the  other  day  that 


290  KID  SCANLAN 

one  night  he  got  to  thinkin'  what  a  poor 
worm  he  was  to  be  married  to  Cleopatra, 
and  it  had  been  too  much  for  his  humble 
soul  which  bust. 

The  dame  nods  and  starts  to  weep. 

"Poor  Hennerey!"  she  says.  "He  ain't 
stopped  lyin'  yet.  I  should  never  have  wed 
him,  but  how  did  I  know  that  my  fatal 
beauty  would  prove  his  undoing?" 

"Ain't  that  rich?"  pipes  Honest  Dan  in 
my  ear. 

The  professor  has  a  coughin'  spell,  and 
when  he  calmed  himself,  he  says  he  has 
just  got  in  touch  with  Marc  Anthony  and 
he's  pullin'  the  wires  to  have  him  come  back 
to  earth  so's  their  souls  can  be  welded  to- 
gether again  and  if  she  will  come  back  in 
a  week,  he'll  be  able  to  tell  her  some  big 
news.  He  said  it  was  bein'  whispered 
around  among  the  spirits  that  Marc  An- 
thony was  on  earth  now,  eatin'  his  noble 
heart  out  because  he  couldn't  find  her. 

Then  he  suddenly  shuts  the  gate,  and  the 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      291 

dame  staggers  out,  overcome  with  joy  and 
the  smell  of  that  incense  which  would  have 
made  a  glue  factory  quit.  Honest  Dan 
beats  it  around  and  opens  the  door  for  her. 
They  wouldn't  take  a  nickel  off  her  then, 
because  they  was  savin'  her  for  the  big 
play. 

About  a  week  after  our  visit  to  the  Tem- 
ple of  the  Inner  Star,  the  Kid  comes  run- 
nin'  up  to  my  room  at  the  hotel  one  mornin' 
and  busts  in  the  door.  He's  got  a  news- 
paper in  his  hand  and  he  slams  it  down  on 
the  bed  and  kicks  a  innocent  chair  over  on 
its  side. 

"I  hope  they  give  him  eighty  years  1"  he 
hollers. 

"Who's  your  friend?"  I  asks  him. 

"Friend!"  he  screams.  "Why,  the  big 
psalm-singin'  stiff,  I'll  murder  him!" 

"They's  just  one  thing  I'd  like  to  know, 
Kid,"  I  says.  "Who?" 

"That  cheap,  pan-handlin'  crook  that 
Dan  Leduc  wished  on  me!"  he  yells. 


292  KID  SCANLAN 

"That  rotten  snake  I  kept  from  dyin'  in  the 
gutter,  that  baby-stealin'  rat  which  claims 
he's  a  medium!  Professor  Bunko — that's 
who!" 

I  grabbed  up  the  paper  and  all  over  the 
front  page  is  a  picture  of  Miss  Vincent. 
Underneath  it  says  this, 

"Famous  Film  Star  Rumored  Engaged 
to  Millionaire." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "what  has  this  here  social 
note  got  to  do  with  the  Professor?" 

"What  has  a  jockey  got  to  do  with  horse- 
racin'P"  bellers  the  Kid.  "Why  the  big 
hick,  I'll  go  down  there  and  strangle  him 
right  out  loud  before  them  high-brow  simps 
of  his!  I'll  have  him  pinched  and  I  hope 
he  gets  life!  I'll—" 

He  went  on  like  that  for  half  an  hour, 
and  when  he  finally  cools  off  he  explains 
that  the  professor  had  guaranteed  to  dust 
off  his  charmers  and  charm  Miss  Vincent  so 
hard  that  she  wouldn't  even  give  a  pleasant 
smile  to  nobody  but  the  Kid.  All  Scanlan 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      293 

had  to  do  was  follow  the  professor's  dope 
and  they'd  be  nothin'  to  it  but  slippin'  the 
minister  and  payin'  the  railroad  people  for 
the  honeymoon.  The  Kid  had  gone  ahead 
and  done  like  the  professor  said,  startin'  off 
with  the  letter  requestin'  a  lock  of  her  hair 
clipped  at  eleven  eighteen  on  a  rainy  Sun- 
day night.  Then  he  telegraphed  her  to 
bathe  her  thumbs  in  hot  oolong  tea  every 
Friday  at  noon  and  send  him  the  leaves  in  a 
red  envelope.  He  followed  that  up  with  a 
note  demandin'  a  ring  that  she  had  first 
dipped  in  the  juice  of  a  stewed  poppy,  and 
then  held  in  back  of  her  while  she  said, 
"Alagazza,  gazzopi,  gazzam!"  thirteen 
times. 

I  guess  the  professor  overplayed  the 
thing  a  bit,  because  the  only  action  the  Kid 
got  was  a  short  note  from  Miss  Vincent  in 
which  she  said  that  as  long  as  he  had  started 
right  in  to  drink  the  minute  he  hit  New 
York,  their  friendship  was  all  over.  The 
next  thing  was  that  notice  in  the  paper. 


294  KID  SCANLAN 

The  Kid's  idea  was  to  go  right  down  and 
wreck  the  Temple  of  the  Inner  Star,  wind- 
in'  up  by  havin'  Honest  Dan  and  his  bunk 
medium  pinched.  I  showed  him  where  it 
would  do  no  good,  because  he  had  set  'em 
up  in  business  and  if  they  was  crooked  the 
jury  would  figure  that  and  put  the  Kid's 
name  on  one  of  them  indictments.  He 
calmed  off  finally  and  said  he'd  be  satisfied 
to  let  it  go  at  half  killin'  'em  both  and  mak- 
in'  a  bum  out  of  the  Temple  of  the  Inner 
Star. 

We  got  down  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
Honest  Dan  meets  us  at  the  door.  He's  all 
excited  and  says  the  time  has  come  for  the 
big  hog  killin',  after  which  they're  gonna 
blow  New  York,  because  they  been  tipped 
off  that  the  new  police  commissioner  is 
about  to  startle  the  natives  with  a  raid. 
The  Kid  starts  to  bawl  him  out,  when  the 
big  stout  dame  is  ushered  into  the  room  and 
Dan  hustles  us  into  the  professor's  shrine 
in  the  rear. 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      295 

As  soon  as  she  gets  inside,  the  professor 
tells  her  to  prepare  for  a  shock.  She  shiv- 
ers all  over,  grabbin'  the  side  of  the  chair 
and  takin'  a  long  whiff  out  of  a  little  green 
bottle.  Then  she  says  she'll  try  and  be 
brave,  and  to  let  her  have  the  works.  The 
professor  says  he  has  finally  dug  up  Marc 
Anthony,  and  all  the  spirits  is  in  there  try- 
in'  for  them,  so's  they  can  be  brought  to- 
gether. He  told  her  to  go  right  back  to  her 
rooms  at  the  Fitz-Charlton  and  he  would 
send  out  the  old  thought  waves  for  Marc. 
Just  when  he'd  get  him,  he  didn't  know — • 
it  might  be  a  day,  a  week  or  a  month,  but 
she  was  to  sit  there  all  dolled  up  to  receive 
him  and  wait.  He  said  she  would  know 
Marc,  because  he  would  have  a  snake  tat- 
tooed on  the  third  finger  of  his  right  hand 
in  memory  of  the  way  Cleopatra  kissed  off. 
That's  all  he  was  allowed  to  give  out  just 
now,  he  winds  up. 

Well,  the  stout  dame  thanks  him  about 
six  hundred  times  and  waddles  out  darn 


&96  KID  SCANLAN 

near   hysterical.     She   grabs   hold   of   her 
daughter  and  hisses  in  her  ear, 

"Oh,  Gladys,  they've  found  him!  My 
beloved  Marc  Anthony  is  coming  to  claim 
me  for  his  own.  Then  we  will  return  to 
Egypt,  and,  sitting  upon  a  golden  throne- 
Friend  daughter  pulls  a  weary  smile  and 
leads  Cleopatra  to  the  door. 

"Oh,  don't,  mother!"  she  says.  "Don't! 
If  you  only  knew  how  all  this  sickens  me! 
This  man  has  hypnotized  you!  Why  don't 
you  listen  to  me  and  take  that  trip  to  Cali- 
fornia where — " 

"What!"  squeals  the  stout  dame. 
"What?  Be  away  when  my  Marc  comes? 
How  dare  you  think  of  such  a  thing!  I  did 
that  once  and  if  you  have  read  your  ancient 
history,  you  must  remember  the  terrible  re- 
sult!" 

Daughter  sighs,  shakes  her  head  and  they 
go  out. 

Now  the  Kid  has  been  takin'  all  this  stuff 
in  without  lettin'  a  peep  out  of  him  and 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      297 

when  the  stout  dame  has  left,  I  figured  he'd 
tear  right  in  to  the  plotters,  so  I  got  ready 
to  hold  up  my  end  and  reached  for  a  chair. 
But  what  d'ye  think  the  Kid  did?  He  falls 
down  on  a  sofa  and  starts  to  laugh!  On  the 
level,  I  bet  he  snickered  out  loud  for  a  good 
fifteen  minutes  and  then  he  gets  up  and 
walks  to  the  door  without  sayin'  a  single 
word  to  either  Dan  or  the  professor,  after 
all  that  stuff  he  pulled  on  me  at  the  hotel  I 
While  we're  goin'  down  in  the  elevator, 
Honest  Dan  tells  us  that  they  got  a  hand- 
some actor  who  just  now  is  playin'  in  a  show 
called  "Standin'  on  the  Corners,  Waitin' 
for  a  Job,"  and  they're  gonna  have  him  get 
a  snake  painted  on  the  third  finger  of  his 
right  hand  and  shoo  him  up  to  the  stout 
dame  the  next  day.  After  he  has  been  wel- 
come homed,  Marc  Anthony  is  gonna  say 
that  he's  makin'  out  a  check  for  the  profes- 
sor which  throwed  them  together,  and  don't 
she  think  she  ought  to  send  in  somethin' 
also?  When  she  asks  what  he  thinks  would 


298  KID  SCANLAN 

be  about  right,  Marc  Anthony  is  gonna 
say  that  he  guesses  she  ought  to  keep 
the  pen  she  wrote  the  check  with  as  a  sou- 
venir, but  that  everything  else  she  had,  in- 
cludin'  anything  a  pawnbroker  would  give 
a  ticket  on,  would  do! 

I  didn't  say  nothin'  to  that,  but  I  was 
doin'  a  piece  of  thinkin'  and  as  soon  as  we 
got  our  feet  on  Fifth  Avenue  again,  I  let 
go.  I  told  the  Kid  what  I  thought  of  his 
friend  Honest  Dan  in  language  that  Billy 
Sunday  could  have  been  proud  of.  When 
I  got  through  with  Dan,  I  took  up  the  pro- 
fessor and  give  him  a  play.  I  said  it  was 
my  belief  that  a  couple  of  safety-first 
crooks,  who  would  deliberate  trim  a  simple 
old  stout  dame  out  of  her  dough  in  that 
coarse  manner,  should  be  taken  up  to  the 
Metropolitan  tower  and  eased  off. 

The  Kid  just  grins  and  starts  hummin' 
under  his  breath. 

By  this  time  I  had  worked  myself  up  to 
such  a  pitch  that  my  goat  was  chasin'  madly 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      299 

about  the  streets,  and  to  have  the  Kid  act 
that  way  was  about  all  I  needed.  I  care- 
fully explained  to  him  just  how  many  kinds 
of  a  big,  yellah  tramp  he  was,  to  let  the 
professor  crab  him  with  Miss  Vincent  and 
get  away  with  it  clean.  I  showed  him 
where  he  should  have  at  least  bent  a  chair 
over  that  guy's  head,  if  he  was  a  real  gen- 
tleman whose  honor  had  been  trifled  with 
and  not  a  four  flushin'  false  alarm. 

"Gobs  of  generous  Gazoopis!"  he  snick- 
ers at  me  when  I  get  through.  "Our  em- 
ployees is  all  new,  noisy  and  Norwegians!" 

They  was  a  queer  look  in  his  eye,  and  I 
figured  he  must  have  slipped  out  in  the 
mornin'  at  that  and  dug  up  a  place  where 
prohibition  hadn't  carried.  I  stopped  right 
in  the  middle  of  the  traffic  and  told  him 
I  was  goin'  up  to  the  Fritz-Charlton  the 
next  mornin'  and  tip  the  stout  dame  off,  if 
it  was  the  last  thing  I  did. 

He  just  grins! 

The  next  mornin'  I  beat  it  up  to  Cleo- 


300  KID  SCANLAN 

patra's  hotel,  and,  after  I  have  waited  an 
hour,  she  sends  a  maid  down  to  see  me. 
The  maid  tells  me  to  spread  my  hands  out 
flat  on  a  little  table  that's  standin'  there  and 
she  examines  every  finger  like  a  sure 
enough  mechanic  looks  over  a  second-hand 
automobile  he's  gonna  buy  to  hack  with. 
Finally,  she  throws  my  hands  down  with  a 
disappointed  look  and  her  shoulders  begins 
one  of  them  hula  dances. 

"Viola!"  she  remarks.  "That  leetle 
snake,  he  is  not  there!  Madame  she  is  not 
at  home — away  wit'  you!" 

Well,  I  figures  I  did  what  /  could,  so  I 
breezed  out  and  left  Cleopatra  flat. 

Failin'  to  locate  the  Kid  anywheres,  I 
went  on  down  to  the  studio  and  walk  right 
in  on  the  professor  and  Honest  Dan  givin' 
Marc  Anthony  a  dress  rehearsal.  He  was 
a  handsome  guy,  all  right,  sickenin'ly  so, 
with  one  of  them  soft,  mushy  faces  and 
wavin'  blonde  hair.  He's  had  the  snake 
tattooed  on  his  finger,  like  the  part  called 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      301 

for,  and  the  way  he  carries  on  about  how 
he's  gonna  give  the  stout  dame  the  work 
makes  me  foam  at  the  mouth.  My  once 
favorably  known  left  had  all  it  could  do  to 
keep  from  bouncin'  off  his  chin!  Finally, 
they  start  him  away  and  Honest  Dan  tells 
me  how  they  got  it  framed  up  for  him  to 
meet  Cleopatra.  He  was  to  go  to  the 
Fritz-Charlton  and  send  up  a  card  that 
claimed  he  was  the  editor  of  "Society  Seeth- 
ings,"  and  when  she  comes  down  to  see  him, 
he  was  to  ask  her  what  was  her  plans  for  the 
winter  season  and  a  lot  of  bunk  like  that. 
In  no  way  was  he  to  make  a  crack  about 
bein'  Marc  Anthony — that  would  be  too 
raw,  but  as  he  was  leavin'  he  was  to  care- 
lessly let  her  see  that  snake  on  his  finger. 
That  was  all ! 

They  knowed  Cleopatra  would  do  the 
rest. 

I  couldn't  stand  no  more,  so  I  hustled 
back  to  our  hotel,  and  the  minute  I  get 
in,  the  clerk  tells  me  the  Kid  has  been  chas- 


302  KID  SCANLAN 

in'  around  lookin'  for  me  all  mornin',  so  I 
beat  it  right  up  to  our  suite.  The  Kid  is 
doin'  his  road  work  by  canterin'  around  the 
room  when  I  come  in,  and  he  rushes  over 
and  grabs  me  by  the  arm. 

"When  are  them  yeggmen  gonna  send 
Marc  Anthony  up  to  Cleopatra?"  he  de- 
mands, all  excited. 

"He  just  left  a  few  minutes  ago  I"  I  tells 
him.  "Why?" 

The  Kid  gives  a  yell  and  jumps  over  to 
the  door  leadin'  to  our  sittin'-room,  yankin' 
it  open  with  one  jerk.  I  thought  I'd  pass 
away  when  I  got  a  flash  at  what  was  inside. 
They  was  about  twenty  of  the  roughest 
lookin'  guys  I  ever  seen  in  my  life,  all 
dolled  up  in  new  suits,  shoes  and  hats. 
Some  of  them  I  recognized  as  ex-heavy- 
weights, they  was  a  few  strikin'  longshore- 
men, a  fair  sprinklin'  of  East  Side  gunmen 
and  here  and  there  what  had  passed  for  a 
actor  in  the  tanks. 

"Some  layout,  eh?"  pipes  the  Kid,  rub- 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      303 

bin'  his  hands  together.  "It  took  me  all 
mornin'  and  nearly  three  hundred  bucks  to 
rib  them  guys  up,  but  they're  all  desperate, 
darin'  and  dolled  up!" 

"What  the — what's  the  big  idea?"  I 
gasps. 

"Hold  up  your  hands!"  roars  the  Kid  at 
his  rough  and  readys. 

They  did — and  I  got  it! 

Each  and  every  one  of  them  guys  had  a 
snake  tattooed  on  the  third  finger  of  his 
right  hand! 

The  Kid  had  probably  put  in  the  morn- 
in' rehearsin'  'em,  because  all  he  had  to  say 
now  was,  "Go  to  it!"  and  they  beat  it.  He 
told  me  they  was  all  goin'  up  to  the  Fritz- 

Charlton  and  ask  for  the  stout  dame  at 

% 

three  minute  intervals,  show  their  right 
hand  and  claim  they  was  Marc  Anthony! 

"If  that  don't  show  the  stout  dame  that 
the  professor  is  the  bunk  and  if  she  don't 
let  out  a  moan  that'll  be  plainly  heard  at 
police  headquarters,  I'll  make  Dan  a  pres- 


3o4  KID  SCANLAN 

ent  of  the  five  thousand  he  took  me  for  I'1 
says  the  Kid. 

In  about  a  hour  the  telephone  begins  to 
ring  and  I  answers  it.  When  the  ravin' 
maniac  on  the  other  end  of  the  wire  got  to 
where  he  could  control  the  English  lan- 
guage, I  found  out  it  was  no  less  than  Hon- 
est Dan.  The  main  thing  he  said  was  for 
us  to  come  down  to  the  Temple  of  the  Inner 
Star  right  away,  because  him  and  the  pro- 
fessor has  got  in  a  terrible  jam.  We 
hopped  in  a  taxi  and  did  like  he  said. 
Honest  Dan  is  waitin'  in  the  elevator  for 
us,  and  he  looked  like  the  loser  in  a  battle 
royal.  He  says  the  stout  dame  has  just  left, 
and  she's  in  a  terrible  state.  I  could  believe 
that  easy,  because  they  is  nothin'  more 
vicious  in  the  land  of  the  free  than  a  en- 
raged come-on.  I'd  rather  face  a  nervous 
wildcat  than  face  a  angry  boob! 

"Somebody  put  the  bee  on  us!"  howls 
Honest  Dan,  wringin'  his  hands.  "And  a 
truckload  of  guys  went  up  to  the  hotel 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      305 

claimin'  they  was  Marc  Anthony  in  voices 
that  disturbed  people  in  China.  They 
throwed  the  real  Marc  out  on  his  lily  white 
ear,  and  seven  of  'em  got  pinched  for  dis- 
orderly conduct.  I  understand  they  was 
a  melee  up  there  that  would  make  a  foot- 
ball game  look  like  chess  and  the  papers  is 
havin'  a  field  day  with  the  thing!  We  got 
to  grab  Cleopatra's  gems  and  go  away  from 
here  before  the  whole  plant  is  uncovered." 

"Why,"  I  says,  "how  are  you  gonna  take 
the  stout  dame  now?  She  knows  it's  a  fake, 
don't  she?" 

"Fake,  hell!"  hollers  Dan.  "She  thinks 
it's  on  the  level!  The  only  thing  that  both- 
ers her  is  which  one  is  the  right  Marc  An- 
thony. She  says  two  of  them  had  such  pa- 
trician faces  that  she  thinks  some  of  the 
Caesars  has  got  mixed  up  with  the  lot. 
She's  gonna  put  it  up  to  her  late  husband, 
and  she's  comin'  back  here  any  minute  to 
talk  with  his  spirit!"  He  begins  walkin'  the 
floor.  "I  never  seen  no  dame  like  that!" 


306  KID  SCANLAN 

he  busts  out.  "She  wants  to  be  trimmed! 
The  only  thing  she  seemed  to  be  sore 
about  was  the  fact  that  she  couldn't  pick  out 
the  right  Marc  Anthony.  Now  we  git 
the  chance  of  a  lifetime  to  grab  a  roll  when 
she  comes  back  and  we  ain't  got  no  ghost  1 
If  I  could  only  get  the  guy  that  sent  all  them 
Marc  Anthonys  up  there,"  he  winds  up  with 
a  yell,  "I'd  make  a  ghost  out  of  him!" 

He  never  seemed  to  think  the  Kid  might 
have  done  it,  because  the  Kid  was  the  boy 
that  had  set  him  and  the  professor  up  in 
business  and  why  should  he  crab  his  own 
play? 

A  little  electric  buzzer  makes  good  while 
Honest  Dan  is  ravin'  away,  and  Dan,  gettin* 
white,  grabs  the  Kid  by  the  arm  and  begs 
him  to  come  to  the  rescue. 

"Jump  in  that  cabinet  there!"  he  whis- 
pers to  him.  "And  when  this  dame  asks  if 
you're  Henry,  say  yes,  and  tell  her  the  real 
Marc  Anthony  is  the  guy  with  the  blonde 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      307 

hair,  and  he's  now  at  the  City  Hospital. 
That's  all  you  got  to  say  and — " 

He  shoves  the  Kid  back  of  the  cabinet 
and  me  back  of  a  curtain  just  as  Cleopatra 
blows  in  with  her  daughter.  Honest  Dan 
tells  them  to  be  seated  quick,  because  the 
professor  has  just  got  the  spirit  of  her  hus- 
band where  he's  ready  to  talk  to  the  report- 
ers. The  West  Indian  hall  boys  sneak 
around  in  the  back,  rattlin'  chains  and 
bangin'  on  pans.  Then  Dan  reaches  back 
and  opens  the  mechanical  bellows,  and  a 
blast  of  cold  air  comes  into  the  room  while 
a  white  light  flashes  over  the  cabinet. 

"Now!"  whispers  Dan  to  the  stout  dame, 
"speak  quick!" 

At  that  minute,  Dan  looked  like  a  guy 
with  a  ticket  on  a  hundred  to  one  shot, 
watchin'  it  breeze  into  the  stretch  leadin' 
,;  by  a  city  block. 

$      "Is — is  that  you  Henery?"  squeaks  Cleo- 
patra in  a  tremblin'  voice. 


308  KID  SCANLAN 

They's  a  rustle  in  the  cabinet  and  then 
this  comes  out  over  the  top. 

"Generous  gobs  of  Gazoopis!  Our  em- 
ployees is  ready,  reckless  and  Russian. 
This  guy  is  crooked,  crazy  and  careless. 
He  will  take  you  for  your  beautiful,  bulgin* 
bankroll  and— 

"Why,  Henery!"  squawks  the  dame, 
jumpin'  up  off  the  chair. 

I  heard  the  well  known  dull  thud  on  the 
other  side  of  the  cabinet,  and  I  guess  it  was 
Professor  Parducci  fallin'  senseless  on  the 
floor.  I  thought  Honest  Dan  had  dropped 
dead  from  the  way  he  was  hung  over  a  sofa. 

"Each  and  every  day,"  goes  on  the  voice 
in  the  cabinet,  "each  and  every  day  we  ship 
a  million  lovely  loaves— 

"Merciful  Heavens!"  yells  the  dame. 
"A  sign!  Henery,  shall  I  go  back?" 

"Back  is  right!"  says  the  voice.  "These 
guys  is  cheap  crooks  and  they  ain't  no 
Marc  Anthony!" 

The  lights  go  out  and  Honest  Dan  comes 


THE  UNHAPPY  MEDIUM      309 

to,  rushin'  over  to  the  stout  dame  with  a 
million  alibis  tryin'  to  be  first  out  of  his 
mouth.  I  beat  it  around  to  the  back,  but 
the  professor  has  gone  somewheres  else 
while  the  goin'  was  fair  to  medium. 

"You  have  deceived  me,  you  wretch!" 
screams  the  stout  dame.  "You  have— 

That's  as  far  as  she  got,  because  right  in 
the  middle  of  it  she  pulls  a  faint,  and 
daughter  eases  her  to  the  floor.  The  Kid 
hops  out  of  the  cabinet  and  grabs  Honest 
Dan. 

"Beat  it,  you  rat,"  bawls  Scanlan,  "before 
I  commit  mayhem!" 

From  the  way  Honest  Dan  went  out  of 
that  room,  he  must  have  passed  Samoa,  the 
first  hour! 

Daughter  reaches  up  and  grabs  the  Kid's 
hand. 

"k— I — want  to  thank  you,"  she  says, 
"for  saving  my  mother.  I — I  don't  know 
what  might  have  happened,  if  you  hadn't 
been  here!" 


3io  KID  SCANLAN 

"That's  all  right!"  pipes  the  Kid.  "D'ye 
want  us  to  do  anything  else?" 

"Yes!"  she  says.  "Will  you  tell  me 
where  you  heard  that — that  description  of 
the — the  million  lovely  loaves?" 

"Sure,"    answers   the    Kid.     "When   we 
was  comin'  East,  we  stopped  off  at  a  hick 
burg  somewheres  and  a  guy  took  us  over  a 
bakery- 
Daughter  claps  her  hands  and  laughs. 
"Poetic   justice!"    she   says.     "That   ex- 
plains everything.     My  poor,  dear  father 
founded  that  bakery,  and  those  were  the  last 
advertisements  for  it  he  wrote!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

LIFE  IS  REEL  I 

^T^HE  nation  is  bein'  flooded  these  days 
-•-  with  advertisements  claimin'  that  any 
white  man  which  works  for  less  than  forty 
thousand  bucks  a  year  is  a  sucker.  The  best 
of  'em  is  wrote  by  a  friend  of  mine,  Joe 
Higgins,  who  gets  all  of  twenty  bucks  every 
Saturday  at  six — one-thirty  in  July,  August 
and  September. 

The  ads  that  Joe  tears  off  deals  with  in- 
ventions. He  shows  that  Edison  prob'ly 
wouldn't  of  made  a  nickel  over  a  million, 
if  he  hadn't  discovered  everything  but 
America,  and  that  Bell,  Marconi,  Fulton 
and  that  gang,  wouldn't  of  been  any  better 
known  to-day  than  ham  and  eggs,  if  they 
hadn't  used  their  brains  for  purposes  of 
thinkin'  and  invented  somethin'.  There's 
fortunes  which  would  make  the  Vanderbilts 
311 


3i2  KID  SCANLAN 

and  Astors  look  like  public  charges,  ex- 
plains Joe,  awaitin'  the  bird  which  will  quit 
playin'  Kelly  pool  some  night  and  invent  a 
new  way  to  do  anything. 

The  ad  winds  up  with  the  important  in- 
formation that  the  people  which  Joe  works 
for  is  so  close  to  the  patent  office  gang  that 
they  could  get  French  fried  potatoes  copy- 
righted. For  the  sum  of  "write  for  partic- 
ulars," they'll  rush  madly  from  Washington 
papers  that'll  protect  any  idea  you  got,  be- 
fore some  snake-in-the-grass  friend  plies 
you  with  strawberry  sundaes  and  steals  your 
secret.  At  the  bottom  of  this  there's  a  long 
list  of  things  sadly  needed  by  a  sufferin' 
public,  which  will  willin'ly  shower  their 
inventor  with  medals  and  money, — things 
like  non-playable  ukaleles,  doctors  which 
can  guess  what's  the  matter  with  you  instead 
of  your  bankroll,  grape  fruit  that  won't  hit 
back  while  you're  eatin'  it,  non-refillable 
jails  and  so  forth.  All  you  got  to  do  is  stake 
yourself  to  a  couple  of  test  tubes,  a  white 


LIFE  IS  REEL  313 

apron  and  a  laboratory,  hire  Edison,  Mar- 
coni, Maxim  and  Hennery  Ford  as  assist- 
ants— with  the  U.  S.  Mint  in  back  of 
you  in  case  expenses  come  up — and  you'll 
wake  up  some  mornin'  to  find  yourself  the 
talk  of  Fall  River. 

I  been  lookin'  over  these  ads  for  a  long 
time,  but  there's  three  names  I  never  seen 
on  the  list  of  famous  inventors.  They  are 
to  wit:  the  guy  that  discovered  the  only  ab- 
solute cure  for  rheumatism,  the  one  that 
invented  the  dope  book  on  the  female  race 
and  the  bird  that  holds  a  patent  on  the  com- 
plete understandin'  of  human  nature.  I 
guess  the  reason  I  never  seen  their  names 
is  because  the  thing  ain't  really  been  decided 
yet — there  seems  to  be  some  difference  of 
opinion.  But  if  you  wanna  find  out  how 
many  guys  there  are  that  swear  they  in- 
vented all  them  things,  look  up  the  popula- 
tion of  the  world.  The  figures  is  exactly 
the  same. 

I  ain't  met  nobody  yet  which  didn't  admit 


314  KID  SCANEAN 

they  had  the  only  correct  dope  on  women, 
rheumatism  and  human  nature,  but  I'm  still 
waitin'  to  be  introduced  to  the  guy  which 
really  knows  anything  at  all  about  any  of 
'em,  when  it  gets  right  down  to  the  box 
score! 

The  nearest  I  ever  come  to  knowin'  the 
original  patentee  to  two  of  'em  was  Eddie 
Duke.  Eddie  is  one  of  the  best  men  in  the 
movable  picture  game,  accordin'  to  every- 
body but  himself.  He  concedes  he's  the 
best.  He's  a  little,  aggressive  guy  which 
would  of  prob'ly  been  a  lightweight  cham- 
pion, for  instance,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his 
parents.  They  killed  off  his  chances  of 
makin'  big  money,  by  slippin'  him  a  me- 
dium dose  of  education  when  he  was  too 
young  to  fight  back.  Eddie's  like  a  million 
other  guys  I  know,  all  Half-way  Henrys, 
you  might  call  'em.  Too  much  brains  to 
dig  streets  and  not  enough  to  own  'em  I 
Unhappy  mediums  that  always  calls  some- 
body boss! 


LIFE  IS  REEL  315 

We're  sittin  in  Duke's  office  one  mornin', 
when  without  even  knockin' — a  remarkable 
thing  for  a  movie  star — in  walks  Edmund 
De  Vronde.  Edmund  has  caused  more 
salesladies  to  take  their  pens  in  hand  than 
any  other  actor  in  the  world.  His  boudoir 
is  hung  with  pictures  of  dames  from  eight 
to  eighty  and  from  Flatbush  to  Florida.  If 
some  of  'em  was  actual  reproductions,  them 
dames  was  foolish  for  sellin'  shirtwaists,  be- 
lieve me!  Edmund  is  as  beautiful  as  five 
hundred  a  week  and  built  like  Jack  Demp- 
sey.  Off  the  screen  he's  as  rough  and  ready 
as  a  chorus  man. 

"Hello,  Cutey!"  says  the  Kid,  who  liked 
De  Vronde  and  carbolic  acid  the  same  way 

"I've  come  to  ask  a  favor,"  says  De 
Vronde. 

"Well,"  Duke  tells  him,  lightin'  a  ciga- 
rette and  lookin'  straight  at  the  end  of  it, 
"we  ain't  gonna  pay  for  no  more  auto- 
graphed photos,  we  won't  fire  the  press 
agent,  you  gotta  finish  this  picture  with 


316  KID  SCANLAN 

Miss  Hart  and  both  them  camera  men  that's 
shootin'  this  movie  is  high-class  mechanics 
and  stays!  Outside  of  that,  I'm  open  to 


reason." 


"What  I  want  will  cost  you  nothing,'* 
says    De    Vronde.     "That    is — practically 
nothing.     My   dresser, — the   silly   idiot!— 
tendered  me  his  resignation  this  morning!'* 

"Well,  what's  all  this  gotta  do  with  me?" 
he  asks  De  Vronde.  "I  can't  be  bothered 
diggin'  up  valets  to  see  that  you  got  plenty 
of  fresh  vanilla  cold  cream  every  mornin', 
and  that  they's  ample  talcum  powder  on 
the  chiffonier!  I  got— 

"I  have  already  secured  a  man,"  inter- 
rupts De  Vronde.  "He  happens  to  be  a — 
a — friend  of  mine.  The  poor  fellow  is  des- 
perately in  need  of  work.  He's  in  Denver 
at  present,  and  I'd  like  to  have  him  on  as 
soon  as  possible.  If  we're  to  begin  that  big 
feature  on  Monday,  I'm  sure  I  can't  be 
bothered  thinking  about  where  this  shirt 
and  that  cravat  is,  and  just  what  color  com- 


LIFE  IS  REEL  317 

binations  will  be  best  for  my  costume  in  the 
gypsy  cave." 

"That's  right!"  grins  the  Kid.  "Figure 
for  yourself  what  would  happen,  if  Cutey 
forgot  his  mustache  curler,  for  instance. 
The  whole  country  would  be,  now,  aghast, 
and  he'd  be  a  nervous  wreck  in  five  min- 


utes !': 


"So  if  you'll  kindly  telegraph  the  fare  to 
this  address,"  goes  on  De  Vronde,  ignorin' 
the  Kid,  "I'll  be  obliged." 

With  that  he  blows. 

"And  the  tough  part  of  it  is,"  moans 
Duke,  reachin'  for  a  'phone,  "I'll  have  to  do 
just  that!  It'll  cost  about  sixty  bucks  to 
import  this  bird  here  and  when  he  gets 
here,  it's  nothin'  but  another  mouth  to  feed. 
If  I  had  half  the  nerve  of  that  big  stiff  De 
Vronde,  I'd  take  a  German  quartette  over 
to  London  and  make  'em  sing  the  'Wacht 
Am  Rhein'  in  front  of  Buckin'ham 
Palace!" 

"He  claims  this  valet's  a  friend  of  his, 


3 1 8'  KID  SCANLAN 

too,"  says  the  Kid.  "I'll  bet  he'll  turn  out 
to  be  another  one  of  them  sweet  spirits  of 
nitre  boys,  eh?" 

"If  he  is,"  growls  Duke,  "it  won't  be  two 
days  before  he'll  be  sick  and  tired  of  the 
movie  game,  you  can  bet  two  green  certifi- 
cates on  that!" 

A  week  later,  me  and  the  Kid  is  standin' 
near  the  entrance  to  Film  City  talkin'  to 
Miss  Vincent,  when  a  young  feller  blows 
in  through  the  gates  and  walks  up  to  us. 
He's  one  of  them  tall  birds,  as  thin  as  a 
dime,  and  his  clothes  has  been  brushed  right 
into  the  grain.  When  the  light  hit  him,  I 
seen  they  was  places  where  even  the  grain 
had  quit.  His  shoes  is  so  run  over  at  the 
heels  that  they'd  of  fit  nice  and  snug  into  a 
car  track  and  he'd  just  gone  and  shaved  him- 
self raw. 

One  good  look  and  this  bird  checked  up 
as  a  member  in  good  standin'  of  one  of  the 
oldest  lodges  in  the  world.  They  got  a 
branch  in  every  city,  and  they  was  organ- 


LIFE  IS  REEL  319 

ized  around  the  time  that  Adam  and  Eve 
quit  the  Garden  of  Eden  for  a  steam-heated 
flat.  The  name  of  this  order  is  "The 
Shabby  Genteels." 

But  what  transfixed  the  eye  and  held  the 
attention,  as  we  remark  in  the  workhouse, 
was  this  guy's  face.  I  might  say  he  had  the 
most  inconsistent  set  of  features  I  ever  seen 
off  the  screen.  He  ain't  a  thousand  miles 
from  bein'  good-lookin',  and  his  chin  is 
well  cut  and  square,  like  at  one  time  he'd 
been  willin'  to  hustle  for  his  wants  and  fight 
for  'em  once  he  got  'em,  but  that  time  ain't 
now!  His  eyes  is  the  tip-off.  They  don't 
look  straight  into  yours  when  he  talks— 
the  liar's  best  bet! — or  they  don't  look  at 
the  ground,  but  they  stare  off  over  your 
shoulder  into  the  air,  like  he's  seein'  some- 
thin'  you  can't,  and  it  ain't  pleasant  to 
look  at. 

I've  seen  that  look  on  beaten  fighters, 
when  the  winner  is  settin'  himself  for  the 
knockout,  and  I've  seen  it  on  the  faces  of 


320  KID  SCANLAN 

other  guys,  when  some  smug-jowled  judge 
has  reached  into  their  lives  and  took  ten  or 
twenty  years  as  a  deposit  on  what  they'll  do 
with  the  rest.  It's  a  look  you  don't  forget 
right  away,  take  it  from  me ! 

Well,  this  feller  that's  walkin'  up  to  us 
had  that  look.  If  a  director  had  yelled 
"Register  despair!"  at  him,  he  could  of  just 
looked  natural  and  they'd  of  thought  he  was 
another  Mansfield. 

And  he's  young!     Get  that? 

"Pardon  me!"  he  says,  takin'  off  his  hat. 
"Where  can  I  find  Mister  De  Vronde?" 

The  Kid  puts  his  hand  on  his  arm  and 
swings  him  around, 

"You'll  pro'bly  find  him  over  behind  the 
Street  Scene  in  Venice,"  he  tells  him.  "If 
he  ain't  there,  look  around  the  Sahara 
Desert  for  him — know  him  when  you  see 
him?" 

The  other  guy  looks  at  us  for  a  minute 
like  he  thinks  he's  bein'  kidded.  Then  he 
pulls  a  slow,  tired  grin. 


LIFE  IS  REEL  321 

"I  think  so,"  he  says.     "Thanks  1" 

When  he  walks  away,  I  turns  to  Miss 
Vincent. 

''That's  prob'ly  Cutey  De  Vronde's  new 
guardeen,"  I  says.  "I  guess  he — " 

"You  and  the  Kaiser  is  the  same  kind  of 
guessers!"  butts  in  the  Kid.  "He  guessed 
we  wouldn't  scrap!  If  that  guy  we  was 
just  talkin'  to  is  a  lady's  maid  for  Cutey,  I 
can  sing  like  Caruso!" 

"He  doesn't  look  like  a  valet,"  says  Miss 
Vincent,  kinda  doubtful. 

"I  don't  blame  him!"  says  the  Kid. 
"And  lemme  tell  you,  he  never  got  them 
muscles  from  brushin'  clothes  and  buttonin' 
vests.  I  felt  his  arm  when  I  swung  him 
around  that  time,  and  this  guy  is  just  about 
as  soft  as  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar!" 

"I  can't  understand,"  says  Miss  Vincent, 
"how  a  strong,  healthy  man  can  be  a  valet 
— ugh !"  she  winds  up,  with  a  little  shiver. 

"That's  easy,"  sneers  the  Kid.  "A  man 
can't!" 


322  KID  SCANLAN 

Well,  a  man  did!  Gimme  your  ears,  as 
the  deaf  guy  said. 

The  next  mornin'  it  turns  out  that  I  can 
guess  like  a  rabbit  can  run.  The  new  entry 
on  the  payroll  borrehs  a  match  from  me, 
and  durin'  the  tete-a-tete  that  folleyed,  I 
find  out  that  his  name  is  John  R.  Adams 
and,  as  far  as  the  world  in  general  and 
America  in  particular  is  concerned,  it  could 
of  been  George  Q.  Mud.  Durin'  the  life- 
time of  twenty-nine  years  he's  been  on  earth, 
he's  tried  his  hand  at  everything  from  bank- 
in'  to  bartenderin',  and  so  far  the  only  thing 
he's  been  a  success  at  is  bein'  a  failure.  At 
that  he  leads  the  league.  And  now,  to  top 
it  all  off,  he's  a  valet  for  a  movie  hero! 

"It's  all  a  matter  of  luck!"  he  says,  bit- 
terly. "A  man  who  tries  these  days  is  not 
an  ambitious  hustler,  but  a  pest  to  the 
powers  above  him!  I  defy  a  man  to  stand 
on  his  own  feet  and  make  good  without 
influence.  It's  not  what  do  you  know  any 
more,  but  who  do  you  knowl  I've  been  a 


LIFE  IS  REEL  323 

bookkeeper,  a  printer,  a  salesman,  a  chauf- 
feur, a  bank  clerk,  and,  yes,  even  a  chorus 
man.  At  every  one  of  those  things  I  gave 
the  best  I  had  in  stock  to  get  to  the  front. 
Did  I  get  there?  Not  quite!"  he  throws 
away  the  cigarette  he's  hardly  had  a  puff  of. 
"Why?"  he  asks  me.  "Because  in  every 
trade  or  profession  there's  somebody  with 
half  the  sand  and  ability,  who  don't  know 
the  job's  requirements  but  knows  the  boss's 
son!  I'm  not  a  quitter  or  I  wouldn't  be 
here,  but  I'm  sick  and  disgusted  with  this 
thing  called  life  and— 

"And  that's  why  you  never  got  nowhere !" 
breaks  in  a  voice  behind  us — and  there's 
Eddie  Duke.  Adams  flushes  up  and  starts 
away,  but  Eddie  pulls  him  back. 

"Listen  to  me,  young  feller!"  he  says. 
"I  happened  to  hear  your  moan  just  now 
and  your  dope  is  all  wrong.  There  ain't  no 
such  thing  as  luck;  if  there  was,  a  black- 
smith is  the  luckiest  guy  in  the  world  and 
oughta  make  a  million  a  minute,  because 


324  KID  SCANLAN 

he's  handlin'  nothin'  but  horseshoes  all  day 
long,  ain't  he?  Forget  about  that  luck 
stuff!  Makin'  good  is  all  in  the  way  you 
look  at  it,  anyways.  A  bricklayer  makin' 
thirty  bucks  a  week,  raisin'  a  family  and 
bringin'  home  his  pay  every  Saturday  night 
in  his  pocket  instead  of  on  his  breath,  is 
makin'  good  as  big  as  J.  P.  Morgan  is — 
d'ye  get  me?  Yes,  sir,  that  bird  can  say 
he's  got  over!  Makin'  good  is  like  reli- 
gion, every  other  guy  has  a  different  idea  of 
what  it  means,  but  there's  many  a  feller 
swingin'  a  pick  that's  makin'  good  just  as 
much  as  the  bird  that  owns  the  ditch — in  his 
own  way!  You  claim  a  guy's  got  to  know 
somebody  these  days  to  get  over,  eh?  Well, 
you  got  that  one  right,  I'll  admit  it!" 

"Of  course!"  says  Adams,  brightenin'  up. 
"That's  my  argument  and— 

"That  ain't  no  argument,  that's  a  whine!" 
sneers  Duke,  cuttin'  him  off  short.  "Lis- 
ten to  me — you  bet  you  gotta  know  some- 


LIFE  IS  REEL  32$ 

body  to  get  anywheres,  you  gotta  know  your- 
self! That's  all !  Just  lay  off  thinkin'  how 
lucky  the  other  guy  is,  and  give  Stephen  X. 
You  a  minute's  attention.  You  may  be  the 
biggest  guy  in  the  world  at  something  if 
you'll  only  check  up  on  yourself  and  see 
what  that  somethin'  is !  Remember  Whos- 
this  says,  'Full  many  a  rose  is  born  to  blush 
unseen — '  Well,  don't  be  one  of  them 
desert  flowers;  come  into  the  city  and  let 
'em  all  watch  you  blush.  Get  me?  How 
did  you  happen  to  meet  this  big  stiff  De 
Vronde?" 

Adams  gets  pale  for  a  second  and  clears 
his  throat. 

"I'm  working  for  him,"  he  says  slowly, 
like  he's  thinkin'  over  each  word  before 
lettin'  it  go,  "and  I  don't  care  to  discuss 
him." 

At  just  that  minute,  De  Vronde,  Miss 
Vincent,  the  Kid  and  another  dame  come 
rollin'  up  in  Miss  Vincent's  twelve-cylm- 


326  KID  SCANLAN 

der  garage-mechanic's  friend.  De  Vronde 
hops  out  and  walks  over  to  us,  wavin'  his 
cane  and  frownin'. 

"Look  here!"  he  bawls  at  Adams.  "I 
thought  I  told  you  to  be  at  the  east  gate 
with  my  duster  and  goggles?  You've  kept 
me  waiting  half  an  hour,  while  you're 
gossiping  around!  Really,  if  you're  go- 
ing to  start  this  way,  I  shall  have  to  get 
another  man.  Look  sharp  now,  no  ex- 
cuses!" 

The  Kid  winks  at  me,  noddin'  to  Adams 
who's  lookin'  at  De  Vronde  with  a  very 
peculiar  gaze.  I  couldn't  quite  get  what 
he's  registerin'.  Miss  Vincent  looks  inter- 
ested and  sits  up.  The  other  dame  opens 
the  door  of  the  car  and  stands  on  the  run- 
nin'  board. 

"Here's  where  the  fair  Edmund  gets  his 
and  gets  it  good!"  hisses  Duke  in  my  ear, 
lookin'  at  Adams. 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  says  Adams,  suddenly. 
"I  should  have  remembered." 


LIFE  IS  REEL  327 

And  without  another  word  or  look,  he 
exits. 

"Yellahl"  snorts  the  Kid. 

"No  spine!"  sneers  Miss  Vincent. 

"Nick-looking  boy — who  is  he?"  asks  the 
other  dame,  lookin'  after  him. 

Duke  slaps  his  hands  together  all  of  a 
sudden  and  gazes  at  her  like  a  guy  gettin' 
his  first  flash  at  his  hour-old  son.  Then 
he  looks  after  Adams,  grins  and  claps  his 
hands  again. 

"Who  is  he?"  repeats  the  dame. 

De  Vronde  sneers. 

"Really,"  he  says,  "your  interest  is  sur- 
prising. That  fellow  is  my— 

"Shut  up!"  roars  Duke,  springin'  to  the 
runnin'-board.  "Here!"  he  goes  on,  talkin' 
fast.  "I'm  gonna  shoot  them  two  interiors 
in  half  a  hour,  so  you  better  call  this  joy 
ride  off!"  He  turns  to  the  strange  dame 
and  speaks  very  polite,  "Miss  Vincent  will 
show  you  everything ;  if  you  want  anything, 
just  'phone  the  office." 


328  KID  SCANLAN 

When  they're  gone,  Duke  turns  to  me  and 
grins. 

"I  often  heard  you  say  you  made  Scanlan 
welterweight  champ,"  he  says,  "by  pickin' 
the  guys  he  was  to  fight  till  he  got  where 
he  could  lick  'em  all.  Well,  I'm  gonna  do 
the  same  thing  for  our  friend  Mister  Jack 
Adams,  valet  for  Edmund  De  Vronde,  the 
salesladies'  joy.  I'm  goin'  in  that  boy's 
corner  from  this  day  on,  and,  when  I  get 
through,  he'll  be  a  champ!" 

"What?"  I  says.  "Train  a  guy  like  that 
for  the  ring?  Why— 

"I  see  you  don't  make  me,"  he  interrupts, 
"which  is  just  as  well,  because  you'd  be 
liable  to  ball  the  whole  thing  up,  if  you  did. 
This  kid  Adams  has  got  symptoms  of  bein' 
a  he-man  in  his  face.  He's  hit  the  bumps 
good  and  hard  and  right  now  he's  down, 
takin'  a  long  count.  Now  whether  he  needs 
to  be  helped  or  kicked  to  his  feet,  I  don't 
know,  but  I'm  the  baby  that's  gonna  stand 
him  up!" 


LIFE  IS  REEL  329 

"Well,"  I  tells  him,  "go  to  it!  But  the 
thing  I  can't  figure,  is  what  d'you  care  if  he 
gets  over  or  not — who  pays  you  off  on  it?" 

He  looks  me  over  for  a  minute,  register- 
in'  deep  thought. 

"I'm  gonna  give  you  the  works!"  he  says 
finally.  "And  if  you  ever  mention  a  word 
of  this  to  anybody,  they'll  have  to  identify 
your  body  afterwards  by  that  green  vest  you 
got!" 

"Rockefeller's  three  dollars  short  of  hav- 
in'  enough  money  to  make  me  tell!"  I  says. 

"Fair  enough!"  says  Duke.  "Did  you 
notice  that  strange  dame  which  was  with 
Miss  Vincent  in  the  car  just  now?" 

"The  blonde  that  would  of  made  Marc 
Anthony  throw  away  Cleopatra's  'phone 
number?"  I  asks.  "Yeh — I  noticed  her. 
Easily  that!" 

"Well,"  he  says,  "this  dame,  which  was 
such  a  knockout  to  you,  is  Miss  Dorothy 
Devine.  When  her  father  died  last  year, 
she  become  a  orphan." 


330  KID  SCANLAN 

"Well,  that's  tough,"  I  says.  "Me  and 
the  Kid  will  kick  in  with  any  amount  in 
reason  and — " 

"Halt!"  said  Eddie.  "Her  dear  old 
father  only  left  her  a  pittance  of  fifty  thou- 
sand a  year  and  two-thirds  control  of  the 
company  we're  all  workin'  for  out  here. 
Now  besides  bein'  several  jumps  ahead  of 
the  average  dame  in  looks,  Dorothy  is  a  few 
centuries  ahead  of  the  movies  in  ideas. 
She  claims  we're  all  wrong,  and  she's  gonna 
revolutionize  the  watch-'em-move  photo  in- 
dustry. That's  what  she's  here  for  now!" 

"Well,"  I  says  after  a  bit,  "what  d'ye  ex- 
pect me  to  do — bust  out  cryin'?" 

"Not  yet!"  he  says.  "I'll  tell  you  when. 
Accordin'  to  Dorothy,  all  the  pictures  we 
put  out  are  rotten.  Our  heroes  and  villains 
are  plucked  alive  from  dime  novels  and  is 
everything  but  true  to  life.  Our  heroines 
belong  in  fairy  tales  and  oughta  be  let  stay 
there.  She  claims  that  no  beautiful  girl 
with  more  money  than  the  U.  S.  Mint  would 


LIFE  IS  REEL  331 

fall  for  the  handsome  lumberjack,  and  that 
no  guy  who  couldn't  do  nothin'  better  than 
punch  cows  would  become  boss  of  the  ranch 
through  love  of  the  owner's  daughter.  All 
that  stuff's  the  bunk,  she  says.  Her  dope  is 
that  a  real  man  would  boost  himself  to  the 
top,  girl  or  no  girl,  and  the  woman  never 
lived  which  could  put  a  man  over,  if  he 
didn't  have  the  pep  himself.  As  a  finish, 
she  tells  me  that  no  healthy,  intelligent  girl 
would  stand  for  the  typical  movie  hero.  A 
bird  which  would  go  out  and  ride  rough- 
shod over  all  the  villains  like  they  do  in  the 
films  would  nauseate  her,  she  says,  and  we 
have  no  right  to  encourage  this  bunk  by 
feedin'  it  to  an  innocent  public!" 

"Eddie,"  I  says,  "she  ain't  a  mile  off  the 
track,  at  that!  This—" 

"Oh,  she  ain't,  eh?"  he  snarls.  "Well 
that  shows  that  you  and  her  knows  as  much 
about  human  nature  as  I  do  about  makin' 
a  watch!  Miss  Devine  wants  us  to  put  on 
a  movie  that  she  committed  herself,  and,  if 


332  KID  SCANLAN 

we  do,  we'll  be  the  laughin'  stock  of  the 
world  and  Big  Bend.  It's  got  everything 
in  it  but  a  hero,  a  heroine,  a  villain,  action 
and  love  interest.  It's  about  as  hot  as  one 
of  them  educational  thrillers  like  'Natives 
Makin'  Panama  Hats  in  Peoria'  would  be. 
A  couple  of  these  would  put  the  company 
on  the  blink,  and  I  lose  a  ten-year  contract 
at  ample  money  a  year!" 

"Well,"  I.  says,  "what  are  you  gonna  do 
—quit?" 

"Your  mind  must  be  as  clean  as  a  baby's," 
he  says,  "because  you  got  your  first  time  to 
use  it!  No,  I  ain't  gonna  quit!  I'm  gonna 
show  Miss  Dorothy  Devine  that  as  a  judge 
of  movin'  pictures,  she's  a  swell-lookin'  girl. 
I  like  these  tough  games,  a  guy  feels  so  good 
all  over  when  he  wins  'em.  She's  startin' 
with  all  the  cards — money,  looks  and,  what 
counts  more,  she's  just  about  the  Big  Boss 
here  now.  All  I  got  is  one  good  card  and 
that's  only  a  jack — Jack  Adams,  to  be  exact 
— and  I'm  gonna  beat  her  with  him!" 


LIFE  IS  REEL  333 

"I'll  fall!"  I  says.     "How?" 

"Well,"  he  tells  me,  "my  argument  is  that 
all  these  thrillers  we  put  on  are  sad,  weary 
and  slow  compared  to  some  of  the  things 
that  happen  in  real  life  every  day  that  we 
never  hear  about.  They's  many  a  tele- 
phone girl,  for  instance,  makin'  a  man  outa 
a  millionaire's  no-good  son  and  many  a 
sure-enough  heiress  bein'  responsible  for  the 
first  mate  on  a  whaler  becomin'  her  kind 
and  a  director  in  the  firm!  I  claim  it  does 
good  and  not  harm,  to  feed  this  stuff  to  a 
trustin'  public  by  way  of  the  screen.  Why? 
Because  every  shippin'-clerk  that's  sittin' 
out  in  front  puts  himself  in  the  hero's  place 
and  every  salesgirl  dreams  that  she's  the 
heroine.  Without  thinkin',  they  both  get 
to  pickin'  up  the  virtues  we  pin  on  our 
stars,  and  it  can't  help  but  do  'em  good!  I 
don't  know  who  started  the  shimmy,  but  I 
know  women  and  I  know  human  nature,  and 
knowin'  'em  both,  I'm  gonna  make  a  sport- 
in'  proposition  to  Miss  Dorothy  Devine!" 


334  KID  SCANLAN 

"What's  the  bet?"  I  says.  "I  may  take 
some  of  it  myself." 

"The  bet  is  this,"  he  tells  me.  "Here's 
this  boy  Adams,  who,  bein'  De  Vronde's 
valet,  is  undisputed  low  man  in  Film  City. 
He's  disgusted  with  life,  he  ain't  got  the 
ambition  of  a  sleepin'  alligator,  or  nerve 
enough  to  speak  harshly  to  himself.  All 
right!  If  Miss  Devine  will  follow  my  or- 
ders for  a  couple  of  weeks  without  Adams 
knowin'  who  or  what  she  is,  I  claim  that 
bird  will  make  good!  All  that  guy  needs 
is  a  reason  for  tryin',  and  she  can  make  her- 
self it!" 

"You  don't  expect  a  dame  like  that  ta 
make  love  to  a  guy  that  cleans  De  Vronde's 
shoes,  do  you?"  I  asks  him. 

"You  must-  of  been  a  terrible  trial  to 
teacher  when  you  went  to  school!"  he 
snorts.  "No! — I  don't  want  her  to  make 
love  to  him.  I  want  to  prove  to  her  that 
the  things  we  put  in  the  movies  is  happenin' 
all  the  time  in  real  life,  only  more  sol  I 


LIFE  IS  REEL  335 

want  her  to  make  Adams  feel  just  how  far 
back  he's  gone.  I  want  her  to  cut  him 
dead,  because  he's  a  valet,  and  let  him  know 
that's  the  reason.  Then  nature  and  him 
will  do  the  rest,  or  I'll  pay  off!  Who  put 
Adam  over?  Eve!  All  right,  I'm  gonna 
wind  this  thing  up  and  let  it  go.  I'll  take 
the  best  scenes  from  the  last  six  pictures  we 
put  out,  and  make  Adams  and  Miss  Devine 
play  'em  out,  without  either  of  'em  knowin' 
it.  They  oughta  be  a  villain,  and  I'm  shy 
one  just  now,  but  I'll  lay  six  to  five  that  one 
will  turn  up!" 

"Look  here!"  I  says.  "Suppose  Miss 
Devine  should  fall  for  this  Adams  guy  for 
real!  Did  you  ever  figure  that?" 

"Yes!"  he  snorts.  "And  suppose  the 
Pacific  Ocean  is  made  outa  root  beer!" 

I  guess  Miss  Devine  must  of  been  a  sport, 
because  Duke  starts  his  stunts  off  the  next 
day.  She  promised  to  give  Adams  a  month 
to  show  signs  of  life  and  to  do  exactly  as 
Duke  tells  her.  Adams  ain't  to  be  told  a 


336  KID  SCANLAN 

thing  about  it,  and  Miss  Devine  giggles  her- 
self sick  over  how  she's  gonna  show  Duke 
the  difference  between  real  life  and  the 
movies.  They  put  up  a  thousand  bucks 
apiece. 

The  first  action  come  off  when  Miss  De- 
vine  and  Adams  meets  in  the  "Sahara  Des- 
ert" set. 

"Good  morning!"  pipes  Adams,  bowin* 
and  raisin'  his  hat. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  comes  back  Miss 
Devine,  drawin'  herself  up  and  presentin' 
him  with  a  glance  that's  colder  than  a  dol- 
lar's worth  of  ice. 

"I — I — said  good  morning!"  stammers 
Adams,  kinda  flustered. 

"You  have  made  a  mistake,  my  man!" 
she  says,  each  word  bein'  about  twenty  be- 
low zero.  "A  mistake  I  shall  report  to 
your  master.  I — " 

"But — ,"  begins  Adams,  gettin'  red. 
"You—" 

"That  will  do!"  she  cuts  him  off.     "I'm 


LIFE  IS  REEL  337 

not  in  the  habit  of  arguing  with  servants. 
You  may  go!" 

Sweet  cookie! 

The  poor  kid  looks  like  he'd  stopped  one 
with  his  chin  and  for  the  first  time  since  I'd 
seen  him,  he  straightens  up  with  his  hard, 
white  face  fairly  quiverin'.  I  thought  he 
was  ready  for  a  peach  of  a  come-back,  but 
he  fooled  me.  He  walks  off  without  a 
word. 

Miss  Devine  laughs  like  a  kid  with  a  new 
rattle  and  snaps  her  fingers  after  him. 

The  next  day,  Duke  is  directin'  a  scene  in 
a  big  thriller  they're  puttin'  on  and  Miss 
Devine  is  appearin'  in  it  as  a  super  at  his 
orders.  She's  wearin'  enough  jewels  to  free 
Ireland  and  she  looked  better  t,han  1912 
would  look  to  Germany.  Adams  is  standin' 
on  one  side  with  his  arms  full  of  De 
Vronde's  different  changes. 

Duke  looks  at  Miss  Devine  for  a  minute 
and  then  raises  his  voice. 

"Say— you!"  he  bawls  at  her.    "What's 


338  KID  SCANLAN 

the  matter,  can't  you  hear?  You  made  that 
exit  wrong  four  times  runnin',  d'ye  think 
we  get  this  film  for  nothin'?  What  d'ye 
mean  by  comin'  here  and  ruinin'  this  scene 
on  me,  eh?  You  wanna  be  a  movie  star, 
they  tell  me — well,  you  got  the  same  chance 
that  I  have  of  bein'  made  Sultan  of  Turkey! 
If  you  can  act,  I'm  King  of  Shantung! 
Why—" 

Miss  Devine  gasps  and  looks  more  than 
ever  like  a  rose,  by  turnin'  a  deep  and  be- 
comin'  shade  of  red.  Nobody  pays  any  at- 
tention to  the  thing.  They'd  all  heard  it  a 
million  times  before,  when  Duke  was  re- 
hearsin'  supers. 

Nobody  but  Adams! 

He  drops  all  of  De  Vronde's  clothes  right 
on  the  floor,  and  I  thought  the  fair  Edmund 
would  faint  away  dead!  Adams  walks 
right  through  the  camera  men  up  to  Duke 
and  swings  him  around  while  he's  still 
bawlin'  out  Miss  Devine. 

"That's  enough!"  he  snarls,  white  to  the 


LIFE  IS  REEL  339 

-ears.  "One  more  word  to  this  lady,  and 
I'll  knock  you  down!  You  hound — you 
wouldn't  dare  use  that  language  to  a  man!" 

Duke's  eyes  sparkle,  but  he  looks  Adams 
over  coolly  and  sneers. 

"Curse  you,  Jack  Dalton!"  he  says. 
"Unhand  that  woman,  or  you  shall  feel  my 
power,  eh?"  He  sticks  his  chin  close  to 
Adams's  face.  "Take  the  air!"  he  growls. 
"Where  d'ye  get  that  leadin'  man  stuff?  If 
I  see  you  around  here  any  more  this  after- 
noon, I'll  fire  you  and  you'll  walk  home  for 
all  the  money  you'll  draw  from  this  man's 
firm.  Now,  beat  it!" 

Adams  hesitates  a  minute,  and  then  he 
looks  like  on  second  thought  he's  scared  at 
what  he's  done.  He  mumbles  somethin' 
and  walks  right  outa  the  picture,  not  even 
turnin'  when  De  Vronde  squawks  at  him  for 
walkin'  over  his  silk  duster  which  he'd 
throwed  on  the  floor. 

"That's  all  for  now,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men I"  pipes  Duke  suddenly,  turnin'  to  the 


340  KID  SCANLAN 

bunch.     "I'll  shoot  the  rest  of  this  to-mor- 


row." 


They  all  blow  out  except  Miss  Devine. 
Duke  looks  at  her,  rubbin'  his  hands  to- 
gether and  grinnin'. 

"All  right!"  she  smiles  back.  "First 
honors!  What  will  I  do  next?" 

She  didn't  have  to  do  nothin'  next!  The 
thing  that  Duke  had  started  got  away  from 
him  and  Adams  led  all  the  tricks  from  then 
to  the  finish.  Duke  told  me  afterwards  he 
felt  like  a  guy  which  has  lit  a  match  on 
Lower  Broadway  and  seen  the  Woolworth 
Buildin'  go  up  in  flames! 

The  very  next  afternoon,  Mister  Jack 
Adams  becomes  a  star.  Yes,  sir! 

A  gang  of  supers  is  hangin'  around  the 
general  offices  waitin'  for  their  pay.  De 
Vronde  and  Miss  Devine  is  sittin'  at  a  cute 
little  table  under  a  tree  drinkin'  lemonade, 
and  Adams  is  standin'  with  the  supers, 
watchin' — Miss  Devine. 

"Look  at  that  big  stiff  tryin'  to  make  the 


LIFE  IS  REEL  341 

dame!"  pipes  one  of  the  extrys,  a  big  husky 
grabbed  up  off  the  wharves  in  Frisco.  He 
points  at  De  Vronde.  "If  I  was  built  like 
he  is,  I'd  eat  arsenic!" 

Adams  walks  over  to  him. 

"Why?"  he  says,  very  cool  and  hard. 

"Heh?"  says  the  super.  "Why,  look  at 
'im.  Lookit  the  lace  shirt  he's  wearin'  and 
them  pink  socks.  Why — " 

"Shut  up !"  snarls  Adams.  "I  know  your 
kind — you  think  because  a  man  bathes, 
shaves,  speaks  English  and  wears  clean 
linen,  that  there's  something  wrong  with 
him!  You  roughnecks  resent  the— 

"Well,  I'd  hate  to  be  the  family  that 
brung  that  up!"  interrupts  the  super. 
"Gawd!  It  makes  a  man  sick  to  look  at 
'im!" 

It  all  happened  so  quick  that  even  Miss 
Devine  and  De  Vronde  didn't  get  it. 
They's  just  a  sudden  swish — a  crack  of 
bone  meetin'  bone,  and  the  big  super  is  flat 
on  his  ear!  The  rest  of  the  gang  mills 


342  KID  SCANLAN 

around,  shoutin'  and  yellin',  and  Adams 
prods  the  super  with  the  toe  of  his  shoe.  I 
see  Duke  runnin'  over  with  a  couple  of 
camera  men  which  is  so  excited  they've  even 
brought  their  machines  along. 

"Listen!"  spits  out  Adams,  bendin'  over 
the  fallen  gladiator.  "Don't  make  any 
more  remarks  like  that  about — about  Mis- 
ter De  Vronde,  while  I'm  in  this  camp! 
If  you  do,  I'll  hammer  you  to  mush!  If 
you  don't  believe  that,  get  up  now  and  I'll 
illustrate  it!" 

The  super  plays  dead,  and  Adams  turns 
away. 

By  this  time,  Miss  Devine  and  De 
Vronde,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  mob,  has 
seen  some  of  it. 

"Really,"  says  De  Vronde,  frownin', 
"you'll  have  to  stop  this  brawling,  Adams! 
I  can't  have  my  man- 
Adams  gives  him  the  up  and  down. 

"Aw,  shut  up!"  he  snarls — and  blows. 

Well,  right  now  I'm  a  million  miles  up 


LIFE  IS  REEL  343 

in  the  air  and  no  more  interested  in  the 
thing  than  the  bartenders  was  in  final  re- 
turns of  the  prohibition  vote.  They's  two 
things  I  can't  figure  at  all.  One  of  'em  is 
why  Adams  should  knock  a  man  kickin1  for 
roastin'  De  Vronde,  who  didn't  have  a 
friend  in  the  place,  and  the  other  is 
what  Duke  and  them  camera  men  is  doin' 
there. 

About  a  week  blows  by,  and  then  Miss 
Devine  rides  out  alone  one  mornin'  on  a  big 
white  stallion.  In  a  hour  the  horse  trots 
into  camp  with  the  saddle  empty.  For  the 
next  twenty  minutes  they's  more  excite- 
ment in  and  about  Film  City  than  they  was 
at  the  burnin'  of  Rome,  but  while  Duke  is 
gettin'  up  searchin'  parties,  Adams  has 
cranked  up  Miss  Devine's  roadster  and  is  a 
speck  of  dust  goin'  towards  Frisco. 

It  was  around  five  o'clock  that  afternoon, 
when  he  comes  back  and  Miss  Devine  is 
sittin'  beside  him.  Her  ankle  is  all  bound 
up  with  handkerchiefs  and  Adams  is  drivin' 


344  KID  SCANLAN 

very  slow  and  careful.  He  stops  and  then 
turns  to  help  her  outa  the  car,  but  she 
dodges  his  arm,  steps  down  all  by  herself 
and  without  any  sign  of  a  limp,  walks  into 
the  general  offices. 

Adams  stands  lookin'  after  her  for  a  min- 
ute, kinda  stunned. 

"What  was  the  matter?"  I  asks  him,  run- 
nin'  up. 

"Why,"  he  says,  without  lookin'  at  me; 
"she  broke — she  said  she  broke  her  ankle. 
She—" 

Then  he  turns  and  runs  the  car  into  the 
garage. 

The  next  mornin'  he  quits! 

Duke  broke  the  news,  comin'  over  to  Miss 
Devine,  while  I'm  tellin'  her  how  Kid 
Scanlan  clouted  his  way  up  to  the  title. 

"Well,  Miss  Devine,"  he  growls,  "I  guess 
you  win!  Adams  has  left  Film  City  flat  on 
its  back.  I  thought  that  bird  had  the  stuff 
in  him,  but  I  guess  you  saw  deeper  than  I 
did!" 


LIFE  IS  REEL  345 

"I  guess  I  did!"  says  Miss  Devine  kinda 
slow.  "I  knew  he'd  never  stay." 

Duke  clears  his  throat  a  coupla  times, 
blows  his  nose  and  wipes  his  forehead  with 
a  silk  handkerchief — his  only  dissipation. 

"And  now  I  got  a  confession  to  make," 
he  says,  throwin'  back  his  shoulders  like  he's 
bracin'  himself  for  a  punch.  "Ever  since 
the  day  I  played  you  against  Adams,  I  Been 
takin'  a  movie  of  you  and  him.  Every  time 
you  was  together  they  was  a  camera  man — 
and  a  good  one — in  the  offin'.  You  didn't 
know  it  and  neither  did  Adams,  but  the  re- 
sult is  a  peach  of  a  movie  that'll  make  us  a 
lot  of  money,  if  you'll  let  me  release  it. 

All  I  need  is  a  couple  more  close-ups  and 
11 

Miss  Devine  has  been  listenin'  like  she 
was  in  a  trance.  She  turned  more  colors 
than  they  is  in  the  flag,  and,  lemme  tell  you, 
they  all  become  her! 

"You — you — made  a  picture  out  of  our — 
out  of — me?"  she  gasps. 


346  KID  SCANLAN 

Whatever  else  Eddie  Duke  is,  he's  game. 

"Yeh!"  he  nods.  "And  wait  till  you  see 
it — it's  great!  Why,  you  got  Pickford 
lookin'  like  a  amateur,  and  Adams  will 
be  a  riot  with  the  girls  the  minute  this 
movie's  released!  I  wanted  to  prove  to 
you  that  the  movies  ain't  got  a  thing  on  real 
life,  and  I  did!  Why  Adams  can  sign  a 
contract  with  me  any  time  he  wants. 
That's  makin'  good,  ain't  it?  From  valet 
to  movie  star  in  five  reels — and  who  put 
him  over?  You///" 

Before  Miss  Devine  can  say  anything, 
we  hear  voices  behind  us.  We're  standin' 
by  a  high  hedge  that  had  been  set  up  for  a 
picture  that  mornin',  and  it  was  Miss  De- 
vine  that  motioned  us  to  keep  quiet.  The 
voices  on  the  other  side  are  Adams  and  De 
Vronde. 

"I've  done  my  share!"  De  Vronde  is 
savin'.  "I've  been  sending  home — " 

"Eighty  dollars  a  month!"  cuts  in  Adams, 


LIFE  IS  REEL  347 

in  that  new,  cold  voice  of  his.  "Eighty 
dollars  a  month  to  your  father  and  mother, 
and  you're  making  a  thousand  a  week. 
Eighty  dollars  a  month,  and  you  pay  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  for  a  suit!  It's  hard  for  me 
to  call  you  a  brother  of  mine!  Do  you 
know  why  I  whipped  that  bum  the  other 
day?  For  what  he  said  about  you?  No! 
Because  I  didn't  want  it  thought  that  the 
whole  family  was  as  yellow  as  you  are! 
But  I'm  going  to  make  you  game.  You're 
going  to  turn  what  money  you've  hoarded 
over  to  Dad. 

We're  all  lookin'  at  each  other — dumb- 
founded! Even  Duke  is  pale  and  pop- 
eyed. 

"By  the  Eternal,  Miss  Devine,"  he  whis- 
pers in  her  ear.  "I  swear  I  didn't  know 
that!  It  don't  happen  in  real  life,  eh? 
Brothers — by  the  dust  of  Methuselah!" 

De  Vronde  is  speakin',  and  we  bend  to 
listen. 


348  KID  SCANLAN 

"I  can't!"  he  chokes  out.     "Why,  111—" 

We  hear  Adams  snort. 

"Stop!"  he  says.  "You  can  make  more 
money  than  I  can  and  make  Ma  and  Dad 
comfortable  for  the  rest  of  their  days.  I'm 
going—" 

"About  that  girl— that  Miss  Devine," 
De  Vronde  breaks  in,  his  voice  shakin'. 
"It's  only  right  that  you  should  know. 
She's  made  an  ass  of  you — she  and  that 
Duke  person!  You've  been  followed  about 
and  everything  you've  done  has  been  re- 
corded by  a  camera.  She  had  no  accident 
the  other  day — her  ankle  wasn't  hurt — the 
horse  was  sent  back  with  the  empty  saddle 
deliberately — they  photographed  that,  tool 
They  had  a  silly  bet  of  some  sort  and — " 

Miss  Devine  steps  deliberately  right 
around  the  side  of  the  hedge  almost  into 
Adams's  arms.  He's  white  and  lookin' 
much  like  he  did  the  first  day  he  blowed 
into  Film  City.  The  minute  he  sees  her 
he  straightens  up. 


LIFE  IS  REEL  349 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?"  he  clips 
out. 

"I've  heard — everything!"  she  says, 
lookin'  him  right  in  the  eye. 

Adams  runs  his  hand  through  his  hair, 
and  pulls  a  look  that  went  through  me  to 
the  bone.  I  don't  know  how  it  hit  Miss 
Devine. 

"And  all  of  this — this — your  attitude 
toward  me — the  accident — was  played  to 
make  a  picture?"  he  says. 

"Yes!"  says  Miss  Devine.  "All  except 
this!"  And  I  hope  I  never  see  another 
movie,  if  both  her  arms  didn't  go  around 
his  neck — right  out  loud  in  public,  too! 
"All  except  this!"  she  repeats.  "And,  oh, 
Jack — this  is  real!!" 

"I  win  a  thousand  bucks!"  pants  Duke, 
draggin'  me  away — De  Vronde  blew  the 
minute  she  appeared  on  the  scene — "I  win  a 
thousand  bucks!"  he  says.  "And  the  pic- 
ture is  gonna  be  a  riot!  If  they  was  only  a 
good  camera  man  here  now  for  that  close 


350  KID  SCANLAN 

up  at  the  finish,  eh?  Still — I  guess  that 
would  be  too  raw!"  He  looks  back  where 
Adams  and  Miss  Devine  is  posin'  for  a  pic- 
ture of  still  life.  "And  she  said  this  love 
stuff  was  the  bunk!"  he  hollers.  "Oh, 
boy!!!!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOSPITAL  STUFF 

EVERY  time  I  see  a  thermometer,  a 
watch,  and  a  egg  my  temperature  avi- 
ates to  about  a  hundred  and  ninety-eight  in 
the  shade — and  if  they's  nobody  lookin'  I 
bust  'em!  I  spent  two  months  and  eight 
hundred  bucks  with  that  layout  once  and, 
oh,  lady! — Say!  The  next  time  I  feel  a  va- 
cation comin'  on,  I'm  goin'  to  Russia  and 
holler,  "Hooray  for  the  Czar!" 

I  just  been  Red-Crossed  to  within  a  inch 
of  my  life  and  I'm  off  that  "take-two-once- 
every-twice,  and  don't-eat-any-this-or-drink- 
any-that"  stuff!  The  right  cross  and  the 
double  cross  has  been  little  pals  of  mine  for 
years,  and  I  once  got  throwed  out  of  school 
for  pullin'  that  "How  to  make  a  maltese 

351 


352  KID  SCANLAN 

cross"  thing,  but  the  red  one  was  all  new  to 
me  up  to  last  month. 

They  call  me  a  glutton  for  punishment, 
but  I  got — enough  1 

I  can't  go  in  a  drug  store  no  more,  because 
the  sight  of  the  prescription  bar  in  the  rear 
affects  me  like  strong  drink  and  I  even  had 
to  lay  off  peas,  because  they  look  like  pills. 

All  the  food  I  got  durin'  the  time  I  be- 
come a  victim  of  the  Red  Cross  could  have 
been  carried  over  the  Rocky  Mountains  by 
a  lame  ant,  and  I  got  a  hole  in  my  wrist 
that  can  be  used  as  a  ash  tray  from  doc- 
tors grabbin'  it  to  give  my  pulse  early  morn- 
in'  workouts  and  clockin'  it  over  the  full 
course.  I  was  allowed  two  kinds  of  milk 
to  drink — hot  and  cold.  The  only  thing  I 
could  get  to  read  was  wrote  to  order  on 
the  premises  and  was  all  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, "Shake  well  before  using!" 

The  whole  thing  was  brought  on  by  two 
words  and  Genaro,  which  was  puttin'  on 
this  five-reel  barbecue  called  "How  Kid 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  353 

Scanlan  Won  the  Title,"  and  take  it  from 
me,  if  the  Kid  had  pulled  off  in  Manhattan 
some  of  the  stunts  he  did  in  that  picture,  he 
would  have  won  more  than  the  welter- 
weight title — he'd  have  won  the  oil  business 
from  Rockefeller  the  first  night! 

The  two  words  was  "Don't  jump!"  and 
Genaro  didn't  say  'em — if  he  had,  the  Kid 
would  never  have  dove  off  a  cliff  and 
sprained  his  million-dollar  left  arm,  which 
triflin'  detail  caused  me  to  get  my  mail  at 
a  hospital  for  two  months. 

It  was  in  the  third  reel  of  this  picture, 
which  I  see  by  the  billboards  is  liable  to 
thrill  the  nation,  that  the  thing  happened. 
The  Kid  is  supposed  to  jump  off  a  cliff  to 
fool  the  plotters  which  is  tryin'  to  stop  him 
from  winnin'  the  title.  They  had  picked 
out  two  of  them  cliffs — one  of  'em  was  a 
drop  of  three  feet  and  the  other  was  a  drop 
of  twenty-one  miles,  accordin'  to  Scanlan, 
who  made  it  and  ought  to  know.  Anyhow, 
it  was  far  enough!  They  was  gonna  show 


354  KID  SCANLAN 

a  close-up  of  the  high  one  first  and  then 
take  a  flash  of  Scanlan  leapin'  from  the 
little  one.  The  Kid  walks  to  the  edge  of 
that  high  one,  looks  down  and  some  fat- 
head camera  man  points  a  machine  at  him 
and  starts  turnin'  the  crank.  Genaro  was 
to  wave  his  handkerchief  as  a  signal  for  the 
Kid  to  dive  off  the  little  cliff  and  Scanlan, 
kinda  puzzled,  watches  him.  Just  as  he's 
walkin'  away  from  the  edge,  Genaro  blows 
his  nose!  The  Kid  sees  the  camera  man 
and  the  handkerchief,  and  not  wantin'  to  act 
yellah  before  the  bunch,  he — jumps! 

A  lot  of  excitement  was  had  by  all  and 
Scanlan  sprained  his  arm. 

"Ah!"  yells  Genaro.  "She'sa  make  the 
greata  scene!  What  you  think  thisa  Mees- 
ter  Scanlan  he'sa  joomp  off  wan  mountain 
for  art?  That'sa  real  arteeste!  He'sa 
killa  himself  for  maka  picture  for  Genaro! 
Ah — I  embrace  heem!" 

Miss  Vincent  begins  by  faintin'.  Then 
she  comes  to,  throws  a  rock  at  a  camera  man 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  355 

which  is  takin'  a  close  up  of  her  uncon- 
scious, kneels  at  the  Kid's  side  and  kisses 
him  right  out  loud  before  everybody.  She 
claims,  if  he  proves  to  be  dead,  she'll  leave 
the  company  flat  and  have  Genaro  tried  for 
murder  before  a  judge  which  had  been  try- 
in'  for  two  years  to  do  somethin'  for  her. 
They  finally  carried  the  Kid  up  to  the  hotel, 
and  sent  for  a  doctor  which  was  recom- 
mended by  Eddie  Duke.  Accordin'  to 
Eddie,  this  friend  of  his  had  the  average 
doctor  lookin'  like  a  drug  clerk.  Pluckin' 
people  from  the  grave  was  his  specialty, 
says  Eddie. 

I  guess  they  had  to  wait  till  this  grave- 
robber  graduated  from  college,  because  it 
was  over  a  hour  before  he  showed  up.  He 
gets  out  of  a  buggy  that  was  all  the  rage 
about  the  time  Washington  was  thinkin'  of 
goin'  in  the  army,  and  the  animal  that  was 
draggin'  it  along  had  been  a  total  failure  at 
tryin'  to  be  a  horse.  The  doc  wasn't  a  day 
over  seventy-five  and  he  was  dressed  in  a 


356  KID  SCANLAN 

hat  that  must  have  come  with  the  buggy, 
a  pair  of  shoes  like  grandpa  used  to  wear 
to  work  and  a  set  of  white  whiskers.  If 
he  had  any  clothes  on,  I  didn't  see  'em. 
All  I  seen  was  them  whiskers!  I  figured, 
if  he  had  plucked  people  from  the  grave, 
like  Eddie  Duke  claimed,  he  must  have 
did  it  after  they  was  dead. 

He  didn't  look  very  encouragin'  to  me, 
but  I  led  him  upstairs  and  into  the  room 
where  Scanlan  was  just  comin'  to  and  askin' 
what  round  it  was.  Eddie  Duke  and  Miss 
Vincent  was  at  his  bedside,  and  the  rest  of 
the  gang  was  outside  the  door  arguyin'  over 
which  was  the  best  undertaker  in  Frisco. 
I  slipped  away  to  a  telephone  booth  and 
called  up  information. 

"Gimme  the  best  doctor  in  California!" 
I  says,  flickin'  a  jitney  in  the  slot. 

"For  a  nickel?"  giggles  the  dame  on  the 
other  end. 

"Stop  it!"  I  says.  "I  got  a  man  here 
that's  liable  to  croak  any  minute — this  ain't 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  357 

no  time  for  comedy!  Ah — what  time  do 
you  get  off?" 

"I  never  go  out  with  strangers,"  she 
says,  "but  you  got  a  nice  voice  at  that. 
Where  is  your  friend  doin'  his  sufferin' 
at?" 

"Film  City !"  I  tells  her.  "And  my  voice 
ain't  got  nothin'  on  yours.  I  don't  want  to 
give  you  no  short  answer,  but  can  I  get  the 
doctor  now?" 

"I  got  him  waitin',"  she  says.  "If  I  was 
you,  I  wouldn't  let  'em  fill  your  friend  full 
of  dope;  fresh  air  and  sunshine's  got  the 
druggist  beat  eighty  ways!  Good-by, 
Cutey — gimme  a  ring  after  the  funeral!" 

"This  is  the  Hillcrest  Sanitarium,"  pipes 
another  voice  over  the  wire,  very  sedate  and 
dignified. 

"And  this  is  Johnny  Green,"  I  comes 
back,  "manager  of  Kid  Scanlan,  the  welter- 
weight champ.  We've  throwed  you  people 
a  lot  of  trade.  Only  a  short  while  ago  Scan* 
Ian  flattened  Young  Hogan  in  two  rounds, 


358  KID  SCANLAN 

and  Hogan  was  took  there  from  the  ring, 
remember?  Well,  I  want  the  boss  doctor 
there  sent  to  Film  City  right  away!" 

With  that  begins  a  argument  that  went 
about  fifteen  minutes,  and  which  I  finally 
win  by  a  shade.  It  seems  it  wasn't  the 
regular  thing  for  the  head  doctor  there  to 
answer  night  bells  and  so  forth,  like  a  ordi- 
nary medico,  and  the  goin'  was  rather  tough 
for  awhile.  Three  or  four  times,  when  I 
was  ready  to  quit,  this  telephone  dame, 
which  was  takin'  it  all  in  with  both  ears,  cut 
in  with  advice  and  helpful  hints  till  the 
guy  on  the  other  end  had  enough  and  says 
he'll  come. 

The  first  thing  that  met  my  eye,  when  I 
got  back  to  the  Kid,  was  Eddie  Duke's 
friend,  the  greatest  doctor  in  the  world. 
He  was  walkin'  very  fast  away  from  the 
hotel  and  mutterin'  to  himself.  I  just  had 
time  to  grab  his  arm,  as  he  jumps  in  the 
buggy  and  reaches  for  the  whip. 

"Will  he  live,  doc?"  I  asks  him. 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  359 

"Bah!"  he  snorts,  jerkin'  away  from  me. 
"The  ignorant  little  pup!" 

He  whales  Old  Dobbin  with  the  whip 
and  leaves  me  flat. 

I  couldn't  figure  out  what  the  Kid's  edu- 
cation had  to  do  with  his  health,  so  I  beats 
it  upstairs  and  all  but  fell  over  Eddie  Duke. 
He's  holdin'  one  eye  and  mumblin'  some- 
thin'  about  "roughnecks"  and  "ingratitude." 
I  kept  on  through  the  crowd  and  into  the 
Kid's  room.  Scanlan  is  still  on  the  bed 
groanin',  and  beside  him  is  the  hotel  clerk, 
thumbin'  a  almanac. 

"Wait!"  pants  the  clerk,  as  I  come  in. 
"I'll  have  it  in  a  second."  He  turns  over 
a  lot  more  pages  and  then  he  hollers,  "Ah! 
Here  we  are — what  did  I  tell  you?  'First 
Aid  to  the  Injured.' '  He  clears  his  throat 
and  the  Kid  looks  up  hopefully.  "Number 
one,"  reads  the  clerk.  '  'First  send  for  a 
physician!' J  He  drops  the  book  and 
dashes  for  the  door.  "Don't  do  nothing 
till  I  get  back!"  he  yells. 


360  KID  SCANLAN 

Scanlan  starts  to  go  after  him,  but  moans 
and  falls  back  on  the  bed. 

"I  wish  I  had  a  gun!"  he  snarls.  "That 
big  boob  has  been  here  fifteen  minutes 
tellin'  me  all  he  was  gonna  do  for  me  as 
soon  as  he  found  it  in  the  book!  He— 

"Didn't  the  doctor  do  no  good?"  I  butts 
in,  sittin'  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Doctor?"  says  the  Kid.  "What  doc- 
tor?" 

"Eddie*  Duke's  friend,"  I  tells  him. 
"The  old—" 

Scanlan  leans  up  on  his  good  arm. 

"Listen,  Johnny!"  he  says.  "I  still  got 
a  wallop  in  my  right!  Don't  kid  me  now 


or—" 


"What  d'ye  mean  kid  you?"  I  asks  him. 
"Didn't  the  doctor—" 

"Doctor!"  he  interrupts  me,  slammin' 
down  the  pillow.  "If  that  guy  was  a  doc- 
tor, I'm  Caruso !  He  comes  in  here  where 
I'm  practically  dyin'  and  tries  to  sell  me  a 
bookl" 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  361 

"Gimme  it  all!"  I  gasps. 

"He  sits  down  at  the  bed,"  explains  the 
Kid,  "and  takes  a  big,  black  book  out  of 
what   I    figured   was   his   medicine   chest. 
He  holds  it  up  and  asks  me  if  I  see  it  and 
I  says  I  did,  thinkin'  I  had  passed  the  first 
test  easy.     Then  he  says  he  wrote  the  book 
himself  and  it's  full  of  hope  and  cheer  or 
dope  and  beer — to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't 
know  which  it  was  on  account  of  the  pain. 
Anyhow,  I  let  him  get  away  with  it,  and  he 
tells  me  to  think  of  how  lucky  I  actually  am 
alongside  of  the  Crown's  Prince  of  Ger- 
many— and  then  he  begins  to   read  from 
that  book!     It  seems  it's  a  novel  about  faith 
bein'  stronger  than  pain.     By  this  time,  I 
seen  that  he  was  either  nutty  or  tryin'  to  kid 
me,  so  I  cut  him  off  by  askin'  him  when  he's 
gonna  fix  up  my  arm.     He  says  he's  doin'  it 
now,  and  when  he  gets  through,  he'll  leave 
the  book  which  will  be  a  total  of  twenty- 
five  bucks.     When  I  come  to,  I  ask  him 
how  long  he  had  been  a  doctor,  and  he  gets 


3 62  KID  SCANLAN 

sore  and  claims  he's  a  healer  of  the  Mystic 
Sliders  or  somethin'  like  that,  and  what  do  I 
mean  by  callin'  him  a  doctor?  Then  I 
called  him  a  few  other  things  so's  he 
wouldn't  have  no  kick  comin'  and  gave  him 
the  bum's  rush  out  of  the  room.  Eddie 
Duke  starts  to  moan  about  me  maulin'  his 
friend,  and — well,  get  him  to  show  you  his 
eye!" 

The  door  opens  suddenly  and  Miss  Vin- 
cent sticks  the  curls  which  all  the  shop 
girls  is  copyin'  around  the  side  of  it. 

"It's  the  doctor!"  she  whispers. 

"Say!"  pipes  the  Kid,  grabbin'  a  pillow. 
"That  old  guy  is  game,  eh?" 

"A  fightin'  fool!"  I  agrees. 

But  this  time  a  tall,  solemn-lookin'  guy 
breezes  into  the  room  and  stares  at  me  and 
the  Kid  with  the  same  warm  friendliness 
that  a  motorcycle  cop  regards  a  boob  tryin' 
out  a  new  auto.  I  figured  he  was  the  bird 
I  had  ordered  by  'phone,  and  hit  i.ooo  on 
the  guess.  He  leans  over  the  Kid,  prods 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  363 

him  around  a  bit,  and  then  goes  over  him 
like  he  had  lost  somethin'  and  thought 
maybe  he'd  find  it  there.  Then  he  straight- 
ens up  and  grunts. 

"Hmph!"  he  says.  "This  man  is  a  nerv- 
ous wreck!  Completely  run  down — needs 
rest  and  diet.  I  have  my  car  outside  and 
can  take  him  over  to  the  sanitarium,  if — are 
you  a  relative?" 

"His  manager,"  I  explains.  "How 
about  the  arm,  doc?" 

"Nothing!"  he  says.  "Wrenched — that's 
all.  Come — help  him  downstairs,  I'll 
wait." 

I  took  out  a  five-case  note. 

"What  do  we  owe  you,  doc?"  I  asks  him, 
hopin'  for  the  best. 

"My  consultation  fee  is  fifty  dollars!"  he 
says,  without  battin'  an  eye. 

I  staggered  back  against  the  bureau. 

"Every  time  you  see  me  it's  gonna  set  me 
back  fifty?"  asks  the  Kid,  with  tears  in  his 
voice. 


364  KID  SCANLAN 

The  doc  gives  him  a  cold  nod. 

"Couldn't  I  take  some  treatment  by 
mail?"  pipes  Scanlan,  hopefully. 

"Cease!"  I  says,  takin'  out  the  old  check- 
book. "What's  your  name,  doc?" 

"James,"  he  says,  "J.  T.  James." 

"What's  the  J  stand  for?"  I  asks,  shakin' 
out  the  pen. 

"Jesse!"  butts  in  Scanlan.     "Heh,  doc?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I'm  rob- 
bing you?"  says  the  doc,  frownin'  at  him. 

"No,"  says  the  Kid,  takin'  the  check  from 
me  and  handin'  it  to  him,  "I  don't  blame 
a  guy  for  tryin',  but— 

I  shut  him  off  and  dragged  him  down- 
stairs before  they  was  any  hard  feelin's. 
We  climbed  in  the  doctor's  bus  and  at  the 
Kid's  request,  Miss  Vincent  come  along 
with  us.  Then  we  went  after  the  road 
record  between  Film  City  and  the  Hill- 
crest  Sanitarium.  I  guess  this  doctor  was 
born  with  a  steerin'  wheel  in  his  hand,  be- 
cause we  took  some  corners  on  that  trip  that 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  365 

would  have  worried  a  snake,  and  when  he 
threw  her  in  high,  we  breezed  along  so 
swift  we  could  have  made  a  bullet  quit. 
Finally,  we  come  to  a  great  big  buildin'  all 
hedged  off  with  an  iron  fence  and  if  you've 
ever  seen  a  souvenir  post  card  with  "Havin' 
a  fine  time.  Wish  you  were  here,"  on  it, 
you  know  what  it  looked  like. 

The  doctor  tells  me  and  Miss  Vincent  to 
wait  in  the  office,  and  he  goes  out  with  the 
Kid.  In  about  fifteen  minutes  he's  back 
and  calls  me  over  to  a  desk.  They's  a 
long  piece  of  paper  there  and  he  says  to  sit 
down  and  fill  it  out,  but,  after  one  flash  at 
it,  I  asked  him  could  I  take  it  home  to  work 
over,  because  my  fountain  pen  was  better 
on  sprints  than  long  distance  writin'  and 
this  looked  like  a  good  two-hour  job.  He 
gives  me  another  one  of  them  North  Pole 
stares  and  remarks  that  if  the  thing  ain't 
filled  out  at  once,  the  Kid  won't  be  admit- 
ted to  the  sanitarium. 

"He's  in  now,  ain't  he?"  I  comes  back, 


3 66  KID  SCANLAN 

''Yes!"  he  snaps.  "And  he'll  be  out,  if 
that  paper  isn't  drawn  up  instantly!" 

Miss  Vincent  giggles  and  hisses  in  my 
ear. 

"They  say  the  child  is  in  London!"  she 
pipes.  "Sign  that  paper,  curse  you!  We 
are  in  his  power!" 

Well,  I  seen  I  had  to  do  a  piece  of  writ- 
ing so  I  grabbed  up  that  paper  and  let 
the  fountain  pen  go  crazy.  I  give  the 
Kid's  entire  name,  where  he  was  born,  what 
his  people  did  to  fool  the  almshouse,  what 
was  his  mother's  maiden  name  and  why, 
whether  he  went  to  church  or  Billy  Sunday, 
was  he  white  and  could  he  prove  it,  who 
started  the  war  and  a  lot  of  bunk  like  that. 
The  guy  who  doped  out  the  entrance  exam- 
inations for  that  hospital  must  have  been 
figurin'  on  how  many  he  could  keep  out. 
When  I  run  out  of  ink,  I  took  out  a  copy  of 
the  Sportin'  Annual,  tore  off  the  Kid's  rec- 
ord and  pasted  it  at  the  bottom  of  the  page. 

"How's  that?"  I  asks,  passin'  it  over. 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  367 

"Very  well,"  he  says,  glancin'  at  it. 
"Mister  Scanlan  is  in  room  45.  That  will 
be  one-fifty — a  hundred  and  fifty!" 

"The  price,"  I  says,  gettin'  dizzy.  "Not 
your  weight!" 

"That's  the  price,"  he  tells  me.  "A  hun- 
dred and  fifty  a  week." 

"I'm  afraid  the  old  bankroll  is  too 
weak,"  I  says, — "too  weak  for  that,  any- 
how. Drag  the  Kid  out  of  that  bridal  suite 
and  let  him  sleep  in  the  hall.  I'll— 

"Why,  the  idea!"  butts  in  Miss  Vincent. 
"You  let  him  stay  where  he  is,  doctor.  The 
money  will  be  paid." 

Before  I  could  say  anything,  the  door 
opens  and  in  comes  the  dame  that  poses  for 
all  the  magazine  covers,  dressed  like  a 
nurse.  I  never  was  much  on  describin' — I 
probably  wouldn't  have  got  ten  people  to 
watch  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  if  I'd  have 
been  the  press  agent — but  this  was  the  kind 
of  dame  that  all  the  wealthy  patients  fall  in 
love  with  in  the  movies — yeh,  and  out  of 


368  KID  SCANLAN 

'em!  The  little  white  cap  on  top  of  her 
head  looked  like  a  dash  of  whipped  cream 
on  a  peach  sundae,  and  if  you  wouldn't  have 
blowed  up  the  city  hall  for  the  smile  she 
sent  around  the  room,  I  feel  sorry  for  you. 
She  crosses  over  and,  in  passin'  me,  she  begs 
my  pardon  and  threw  that  smile  into  high. 

A  hundred  and  fifty  a  week,  eh?  Well 
— I  dives  in  my  inside  pocket. 

"May  I  have  your  check,  Mister — eh — 
ah—  "  pipes  the  doc. 

"Green,"  I  helps  him  out,  "Johnny 
Green.  Can  you  have  a  check?  You  said 
it!"  I  sits  down  and  writes  one  out. 

"Why  this  is  for  three  hundred  dollars !" 
he  busts  out,  lookin'  at  it. 

"Even  so,  brother,"  I  grins,  stealin'  a 
slant  at  the  Venus  de  California.  "That's 
for  me  and  the  Kid.  Gimme  a  room  next 
to  his  and — " 

"Do  you  think  this  is  a  hotel?"  he  frowns 
at  me. 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  369 

"I  should  care!"  I  tells  him.  "Let  me 
in — that's  all  /  want!" 

With  that  the  nurse  remarks  that  the  Kid 
is  ready  to  see  us,  so  me  and  Miss  Vincent 
folleys  her  down  the  hall  and  she  opens 
a  door  and  calls  in, 

"Visitors,  Mister  Scanlan!" 

"Yeh?"  pipes  the  Kid  in  a  show-em-the 
exit  voice.  "Ah — can  I  have  a  drink  of — 
ah — water?" 

"Certainly,"    she    says.     "I'll    bring    it 


now." 


"Don't  rush  it!"  says  the  Kid.  "It  might 
curdle!  Wait  till  the  attendance  falls  off 
a  bit!" 

She  laughs — and  Miss  Vincent  didn't. 

"Oho!"  whispers  the  pet  of  the  movies. 
"Like  that,  eh?" 

We  go  in  the  room,  and  there's  Scanlan 
layin'  in  the  whitest  bed  I  even  seen  in  my 
life  and  lookin'  about  as  miserable  as  a  mil- 
lionaire's nephew  on  the  day  his  uncle  dies. 


370  KID  SCANLAN 

There's  about  three  hundred  pillows  under 
his  head  and  neck,  his  arm  is  all  bandaged 
up  and  beside  the  bed  is  a  table  with  a  set 
of  flowers  on  it. 

And  then  there  was  that  nurse! 

"Pretty  soft!"  I  says. 

The  Kid  grins  and  then  twists  around  to 
Miss  Vincent  and  groans. 

"Does  it  hurt  much,  you  poor  dear?"  she 
says. 

"I  wonder  how  I  stand  it!"  pipes  the 
Kid,  keepin'  his  face  from  me. 

"Can  I  get  you  anything?"  she  asks  him 
after  a  minute. 

"Well,"  answers  the  Kid,  "if  I  did  want 
something  we  could  send  Johnny  for  it." 
He  looks  at  me  meanin'ly.  "Go  out  and 
git  the  right  time!"  he  tells  me.  "And 
while  you're  at  it — take  lots  of  it!" 

I  went  outside  and  closed  the  door.  I 
remembered  bein'  in  a  hospital  once,  where 
they  was  examinin'  guys  for  nerves,  and 
one  of  the  tests  was  hittin'  'em  in  the  knee 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  371 

with  a  book  and  watchin'  if  their  legs  flew 
out.  I  don't  remember  the  name  of  the 
book,  but  I  figured  on  takin'  a  chance.  I 
breezed  out  to  the  desk  in  the  hall  and  filled 
out  one  of  them  entry  blanks  about  myself, 
and  then  I  dug  up  the  doctor. 

"Doc,"  I  says,  "I  wish  you'd  gimme  the 
East  and  West,  there's  somethin'  the  matter 
with  my  nerve.  I  know  you  can  fix  me  up, 
if  anybody  can,  because  you  got  so  much 
yourself." 

"Just  what  is  the  East  and  West?"  he 
asks  me. 

"Why,  look  me  over!"  I  explains.  "I 
wanna  see  what  I  need  or  should  get  rid 
of." 

He  leads  me  in  a  little  room  to  one  side, 
and  goes  over  me  like  a  lawyer  lookin'  for 
a  clause  in  a  contract  he  can  bust.  He 
looks  at  my  tongue  till  it  begin  to  quiver 
from  exposure  to  the  air;  he  clocks  my 
pulse  at  a  mile,  two  miles  and  over  the 
jumps;  he  stuck  a  telephone  like  you  see  in 


372  KID  SCANLAN 

the  foreign  movies  over  my  heart  and  lis- 
tened in  on  the  internal  gossip  for  twenty 
minutes;  he  walloped  me  on  the  chest  with 
the  best  he  had  and  made  me  sing  a  song 
called  "Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!"  Then 
he  shakes  his  head  and  tells  me  to  put  on 
my  coat. 

"You're  one  of  the  healthiest  specimens 
I  ever  examined!"  he  says.  "There's  abso- 
lutely nothing  the  matter  with  you." 

"Well,  that's  certainly  tough,  doc,"  I  tells 
him,  "because  I  sure  want  to  win  one  of 
them  rooms  like  Scanlan  has.  I — wait  a 
minute!"  I  hollers,  gettin'  a  flash.  "You 
didn't  gimme  the  book  test!" 

I  hops  over  to  the  desk  and  grabs  up  a 
book  off  it.  It  was  a  big  thick  one  called 
"Paralysis  to  Pneumonia,"  and  was  written 
by  a  couple  of  Greeks  named  "Symptoms 
and  Therapeutics."  I  never  heard  of  the 
thing  before,  and  I  wished  it  had  been 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  or  somethin'  like 
that,  but  I  took  a  chance. 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  373 

"Here!"  I  says.  "I  don't  know  if  this 
is  the  right  one  or  not,  but  let's  try  it  out 
on  my  knee,  eh?" 

I  seen  he  didn't  make  me,  so  I  explains 
about  the  nerve  test  I  seen  where  some  of 
the  guys  throwed  out  their  legs  when  hit, 
and  some  of  'em  didn't.  He  gimme  the 
laugh  then,  and  tells  me  to  look  out  of  the 
window.  I  did  and  they's  a  terrible  crash 
in  back  of  me,  but  I  kept  lookin'  out  like 
he  told  me.  Then  he  says  all  right,  I  can 
turn  around,  and,  when  I  did,  I  see  the 
book  case  has  fell  over  on  the  floor.  He 
claims  if  I  had  been  nervous,  I  would  have 
jumped  eighty  feet  when  it  crashed  down 
and  as  they  is  nothin'  the  matter  with  me,  I 
might  as  well  be  on  my  way.  Well,  I  was 
up  against  it — but  only  for  a  minute.  That 
last  crack  of  his  gimme  an  idea.  I  makes 
a  leap  across  the  floor,  grabs  my  heart  and 
starts  to  shake  and  shiver  like  a  bum  in  one 
of  them  "Curse  of  Drink"  productions. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  calls  out. 


374  KID  SCANLAN 

I  looks  wildly  around  the  room,  and  I 
seen  a  fly  upside  down  on  the  window-sill 
tryin'  to  get  to  its  feet. 

"Oh!"  I  says.  "I'm  so  nervous,  doc,  I'm 
shakin'  like  a  crap-shooter.  D'ye  see  that 
fly?  Well,  it  must  have  fell  off  the  win- 
dow just  then — it  gimme  an  awful  shock — 
y'know  that  sudden  noise  and — " 

He  throws  up  his  hands. 

"Come!"  he  tells  me.  "I'll  assign  you 
to  a  room." 

That's  how  I  come  to  get  mixed  up  with 
the  Red  Cross. 

Pretty  soon  they  had  the  Kid's  arm  bet- 
ter than  it  ever  was,  but  as  they  was  still 
workin'  on  his  nerves,  we  stuck  around  at 
the  sanitarium.  We're  both  on  a  diet, 
which  meant  that  at  each  meal-time  we  was 
fed  about  enough  food  to  nourish  a  healthy 
infant  about  a  half  hour  old.  The  general 
idea  of  the  stuff  was  along  nursery  lines,  too 
— milk,  eggs  and  baby  fodder,  three  times 
a  day.  I  was  O.  K.  when  I  went  in  there, 


HOSPITAL  STUFF 

but  in  a  couple  of  weeks  I  was  the  prize 
patient  on  account  of  them  meals.  They 
tell  me  I  raved  one  night  and  bellered  for 
a  rattle,  and  Scanlan  made  the  nurse  tell 
him  all  about  Jack  the  Giant  Killer  and 
Old  Mother  Hubbard.  The  place  must 
have  been  run  by  a  guy  who  believed  in  let- 
tin'  the  dumb  animals  live,  because  you 
couldn't  have  got  a  piece  of  meat  in  there, 
if  you  begged  'em  for  it  till  you  was  black 
in  the  face.  You  could  have  milk  and  eggs 
or  eggs  and  milk — that  was  the  limit! 

One  mornin'  the  orderly  forgets  himself 
and  asks  me  what  I  want  for  breakfast.  I 
thought  they  had  let  down  the  bars  at  last, 
and  I  all  but  jumped  out  of  the  bed. 

"Gimme  a  steak,  French  fried  potatoes, 
coffee  and  hot  rolls,"  I  says.  "Have  the 
potatoes  well  done  and  the  steak  rare." 

"Rave  on,"  he  answers  me.  "Do  you 
want  the  eggs  boiled,  fried  or  scrambled? 
Ain't  there  no  particular  way  you  like 
'em?" 


376  KID  SCANLAN 

"Not  no  morel"  I  groans,  and  falls  back 
on  the  sheets. 

The  only  bright  spot  in  the  whole  thing 
was  Miss  Woods,  the  nurse  that  caused 
me  to  enter  the  place.  She  used  to  come 
in  every  mornin'  and  make  me  play  a 
thermometer  was  a  lollypop  and  I  held 
the  thing  in  my  mouth  while  she  took  my 
temperature  and  pulled  a  clock  on  my 
pulse.  Then  the  orderly  would  come  in 
and  take  the  fruit  friends  had  left  for  me, 
and  I'd  be  all  set  for  the  day.  When  I 
kicked  about  the  food,  Miss  Woods  claimed 
I  ought  to  be  tickled  to  get  eggs  to  eat,  be- 
cause they  was  very  expensive  on  account 
of  the  late  war.  I  says  I  didn't  know  they 
had  been  fightin'  with  eggs  in  Europe,  and 
she  laughs  and  says  I'm  delicious.  She 
brought  me  in  a  book  to  read  and  on  the 
cover  it's  all  about  the  nights  of  Columbus. 
I  didn't  even  open  the  thing,  because  what 
kind  of  nights  could  Columbus  have  had — 
they  was  nothin'  doin'  in  them  days.  She 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  377 

asks  me  what  my  occupation  was  and 
says  maybe  she  could  arrange  so's  I  could 
work  at  it  while  I  was  there  to  keep  my 
mind  off  things.  I  says  I  dared  anything 
to  keep  my  mind  off  of  her,  and  she  kinda 
frowns;  so's  to  brighten  things  up  I  says 
before  I  come  there  I  had  been  a  deck  stew- 
ard on  a  submarine,  and  it  gets  a  laugh. 
Then  she  says  I  looked  like  a  bookkeeper, 
and  I  didn't  know  whether  that  was  a  boost 
or  a  knock,  so  I  passed  it  off  by  sayin'  I  had 
a  chance  to  be  that  when  young,  but  had  to 
give  it  up  because  I  couldn't  stand  the  smell 
of  ink. 

After  we  have  kidded  like  that  for  a 
while,  I  admits  bein'  Kid  Scanlan's  mana- 
ger, and  with  that  she  suddenly  runs  to  the 
door  and  closes  it  tight.  She  comes  back 
on  tip-toes,  leans  over  the  bed  lookin'  at  me 
for  a  minute  and  then  she  asks  me  very  soft 
would  I  do  somethin'  for  her.  I  had  got 
as  far  as  offerin'  to  dive  off  the  Singer 
Buildin'  into  a  bucket  of  water,  when  she 


378  KID  SCANLAN 

cuts  me  off  and  tells  me  to  listen  to  her  as 
they  wasn't  much  time. 

She  asked  me  had  I  ever  noticed  a  big, 
husky,  black-haired  guy  out  in  the  exercise 
yard.  I  said  I  had.  I  remembered  a  big 
whale  of  a  man,  with  the  face  of  a  fright- 
ened kid,  walkin'  up  and  down,  up  and 
down,  all  day  long.  Every  now  and  then 
he'd  stop  and  pick  up  a  pebble  or  a  handful 
of  dirt  and  take  it  to  one  side  where  he'd 
examine  it  for  half  an  hour.  Then  he'd 
throw  it  away  and  start  that  sentry  thing 
again. 

Well,  she  said,  this  bird  had  been  down 
to  South  America  where  he  had  discovered 
some  kind  of  a  mineral  that  had  made  him 
very  rich  and  some  kind  of  a  fever  that  had 
made  him  very  sick.  He  was  at  the  sani- 
tarium so's  the  doctors  could  keep  a  eye 
on  him,  the  bettin'  bein'  about  seven  to  five 
that  he  would  go  nutty,  if  some  excavatin' 
wasn't  done  immediately  on  his  dome.  'A 
operation  will  save  him,  but  his  parents 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  379 

won't  think  of  it,  and  there  you  are. 
When  she  stopped,  I  told  her  that  whilst 
I  never  had  performed  no  operations  be- 
fore, beyond  once  when  I  pulled  a  loose 
tooth  of  Scanlan's  between  the  second  and 
third  round  of  a  fight,  I  would  get  some- 
body to  sneak  me  in  some  tools  and  get  to 
work  on  the  big  guy  the  first  chance  I  got. 
She  give  a  little  squeal  and  says  that  wasn't 
what  she  wanted  me  to  do,  gettin'  pale  and 
prettier  every  minute.  I  seen  I  pulled  a 
bone,  so  I  asks  her  to  come  right  out  with  it 
and  whatever  she  said  I'd  do  it  or  break  a 
leg. 

"Then  when  Mr.  Scanlan  takes  his  exer- 
cise every  day  with  the  boxing  gloves  and 
punching  bag,"  she  says,  "get  him  to  per- 
suade Arthur  to  join  him.  Arthur  would 
do  it  for  him  quicker  than  he  would  for  me 
or  any  of  the  doctors.  He  thinks  we  are 
all  in  league  against  him  and  he  admires 
Mr.  Scanlan — I've  read  it  in  his  face  as  he 
watches  him  out  in  the  yard.  Arthur  him- 


38o  KID  SCANLAN 

self  was  a  noted  athlete  before  he  went  to 
South  America.  He  might  even  box  with 
Mr.  Scanlan.  That  would  lessen  the  ten- 
sion on  his  mind  and  we  might  get  him  to 
see  that  an  operation  is — Oh!  Will  you 
do  it?"  she  breaks  off  suddenly,  grabbin' 
my  hand. 

"Will  I?"  I  says,  holdin'  on  to  that 
hand.  "If  Scanlan  don't  box  him,  I'll  take 
him  on  myself!" 

"Oh,  thank  you — thank  you!"  she  whis- 
pers, "I—" 

"That's  all  right!"  I  cuts  her  off.     "Is 
—ah — is   the   big   fellow   any   relation   to 
you?" 

She  blushed.  Yeh — and  I  looked  at  her, 
forgettin'  a  lot  of  things  about  both  of  us 
that  didn't  quite  match — and  wished!  I 
got  everything  I  had  together  for  one  good 
try,  bein'  handicapped  by  the  fact  that  I  still 
had  her  hand  and  that  room  was  goin' 
around  like  a  top.  And  then,  poor  boob— 
I  looked  down  at  the  hand  I  didn't  have, 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  381 

wonderin'  why  she  didn't  answer  me — and 
saw  the  answer  on  one  finger.  The  darned 
cold,  glitterin'  thing  seemed  to  sneer  at  me. 
I  felt  like  I'd  stopped  one  with  my  chin, 
and  somethin'  went  outa  me  that  ain't  back 
yet.  What?  Well,  a  guy  can  hope,  can't 
he? 

Say!  That  ring  must  have  cost  five  hun- 
dred bucks — it  was  a  pip! 

I  grabbed  a  drink  of  that  darned  milk  to 
steady  myself,  and  I  seen  from  the  way  she 
looked  at  me  that  she  got  me. 

"I  see!"  I  says,  lettin'  go  of  the  hand  that 
belonged  to  friend  Arthur.  "He — and  he 
went  to  South  America,  eh?" 

"Listen!"  she  whispers,  bendin'  over. 
"You  know  now  what  this  means  to  me. 
If  you'll  help  me,  I'll  do  anything  for  you! 
Why—" 

I  sat  up  in  bed  and  grabbed  her  hand 
again. 

"Anything?"  I  asks  her. 

She  looks  out  the  window,  gets  pale  and 


382  KID  SCANLAN 

grits  her  teeth.  You  could  see  she  wished 
she  hadn't  said  it,  but  she  was  game  and 
was  standin'  pat. 

"Anything!"  she  says. 
"Then  for  the  love  of  heaven!"  I  shoots 
out,  "get  me  a  piece  of  meat!     This  egg 
and  milk  thing  is  drivin'  me  nutty!" 

She  wheeled  around  so  quick  the  scared 
look  was  still  on  her  face,  and  for  a  minute 
we  both  just  looked.  Then  she  give  a  kinda 
nervous  little  laugh,  grabbed  both  my 
hands,  squeezed  'em  like  a  man — and  blew! 
Oh,  boy!  I  ain't  no  hard  loser  but- 
Well,  it  wasn't  no  trick  at  all  to  get  big 
Arthur  to  box  with  the  Kid.  He  took  to  it 
like  a  chorus  girl  does  to  a  telephone  and 
what  puzzled  me  was  why  none  of  them  fifty 
dollar  doctors  hadn't  thought  of  it  before. 
I  guess  it  was  because  they  was  nobody 
there  husky  enough  to  handle  him  by  them- 
selves, because  Arthur  packed  a  wallop  in 
eacji  hand  that  meant  curtains,  if  it  landed. 
Behind  that  was  six-foot-two  of  bone  and 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  383 

about  two  hundred  and  forty  pounds  of 
muscle. 

The  Kid  labored  with  him  like  a  mother 
with  a  baby.  He  taught  him  how  to  duck, 
feint,  jab,  uppercut,  swing,  stall,  rough  in 
the  clinches,  everything  he  knew,  and  Ar- 
thur learned  awful  quick.  So  quick  that 
we  had  to  cut  the  bouts  down  to  twenty  min- 
utes each,  because  the  big  guy  didn't  know 
and  he  was  try  in*  with  every  punch! 

The  doctors  told  Scanlan  to  talk  opera- 
tion to  him,  and  the  Kid  tried  it  once.  Ar- 
thur stopped  boxin'  and  looked  at  him  so 
reproachful  that  Scanlan  refused  to  men- 
tion it  again.  He  said  he  looked  just  like 
a  kid  that  come  down  Christmas  mornin' 
and  found  no  tree. 

Finally,  me  and  the  Kid  packed  up  and 
kissed  the  sanitarium  good-by,  but  every 
afternoon  at  three  we  went  over  and  Scan- 
lan put  on  the  gloves  with  Arthur  for  a 
while,  because  I  had  give  my  word  to  his 
girl.  Arthur  got  so  he  lived  all  the  rest  of 


384  KID  SCANLAN 

the  day  and  night  lookin'  forward  to  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He  snarled  at  the 
doctors,  cuffed  the  orderlies,  didn't  know 
Miss  Woods  from  the  iron  gate  that  kept 
him  in  there,  but  the  minute  Scanlan 
breezed  into  the  yard  with  the  gloves  his 
face  would  be  one  big  smile. 

This  went  on  for  three  months — and  then 
Miss  Vincent  stepped  into  the  thing. 

She  wanted  to  know  where  the  Kid  was 
goin'  every  afternoon  at  three  o'clock,  and 
like  a  simp,  I  told  her  the  whole  story. 
She  thanks  me  with  a  odd  look  that  I  didn't 
get  till  that  night,  when  the  Kid  comes 
tearin'  in  to  our  room  at  the  hotel  and  slams 
the  door.  When  he  gets  where  he  can 
make  his  tongue  do  like  he  asks  it,  he  says 
it's  all  off  between  him  and  Miss  Vincent. 
By  usin'  some  judgment  and  four  hours  of 
time  I  find  out  that  Miss  Vincent  thinks  this 
stuff  about  the  Kid  boxin'  Arthur  is  a  lot  of 
bunk  and  the  Kid  was  really  goin'  back  to 
the  sanitarium  every  day  to  see  Miss 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  385 

Woods.  She  has  give  that  nurse  the  once 
over  and  then  used  some  woman's  arithme- 
tic which  makes  two  and  two  equal  nine, 
get  me?  Well,  one  word  led  to  another, 
and  finally  she  tells  him  if  he  don't  cut  the 
sap;tarium  out,  she's  off  him  for  life. 

That's  a  bad  way  to  handle  Scanlan. 
He's  Irish  and — you  know! 

He  told  her  we  give  our  word  and  he  was 
gonna  box  Arthur  till  they  remodeled  Ar- 
thur's skull,  no  matter  what  happened. 
Then  Miss  Vincent  gets  sensible  and  weeps. 
In  a  minute  the  Kid  is  on  his  knees,  and  she 
shows  more  sense  than  usual  by  chasin'  him 
at  that  point.  At  the  bottom  of  the  stairs, 
Scanlan  calls  up  and  asks  if  he  can  kiss  her 
good  night.  She  tells  him  it's  too  late  now, 
he  has  missed  the  psychological  moment. 

That  last  was  what  had  the  Kid  up  in  the 
air.  He  didn't  know  what  it  meant,  except 
that  it  was  a  cinch  she  wasn't  wishin'  him 
good  luck.  That  psychological  thing  was 
past  me,  too.  I  looked  it  up  in  the  diction- 


386  KID  SCANLAN 

ary,  and  it  was  there  all  right,  but  it  could 
have  been  in  Russia  as  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned, because  the  way  it  described  it  was 
over  my  head.  The  Kid  finally  puts  it 
right  up  to  Miss  Vincent,  and  she  tells  him 
to  find  out  for  himself. 

"Go  over  to  that  trick  sanitarium  of 
yours,  and  ask  Miss  Woods,"  she  tells  him 
scornfully.  "Maybe  she  can  tell  you  what 
it  means!" 

But  at  two  o'clock,  when  the  Kid  is 
leavin'  for  his  daily  maulin'  bee  with  big 
Arthur,  she  comes  along  in  her  racin'  car 
and  asks  him  to  go  to  Los  Angeles  with  her. 
The  Kid  stalls  and  says  he's  just  about  got 
time  to  get  over  and  give  the  South  Ameri- 
can entry  a  workout,  although  he'd  rather 
take  the  ride  with  her  than  defend  his  title 
against  a  one-armed  blind  man.  She 
frowns  for  a  minute,  and  then  she  smiles 
and  says  hop  in  with  her  and  she'll  drive 
him  over  to  the  sanitarium. 

When  they  blowed  in  that  night  at  seven 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  387 

o'clock,  I  seen  the  Kid  looks  kinda  worried, 
while  he's  washin'  the  Golden  West  off  his 
face  and  neck,  so  I  ask  him  how  Arthur  is 
comin'  along.  Scanlan  coughs  a  couple  of 
times  and  then  he  says  he  don't  know,  be- 
cause he  wasn't  able  to  get  over  there  that 
afternoon — the  first  he'd  missed  since  I 
promised  the  world's  champion  girl  I'd  as- 
sist her.  While  I'm  still  bawlin'  him  out, 
he  claims  it  wasn't  his  fault,  because  the  car 
broke  down  in  the  middle  of  California  and 
they  had  to  get  towed  back. 

I  will  say  I  was  sorry  to  find  out  that 
Miss  Vincent  wasn't  above  a  little  rough 
stuff!  Oh,  you  ladies! 

The  next  day  Genaro  suddenly  decides 
to  take  a  scene  in  the  Kid's  movie,  and  as 
we  was  under  contract  we  had  to  stay.  The 
third  afternoon,  Miss  Vincent  gets  a  terri- 
ble headache  and  the  Kid  has  to  sit  on  the 
hotel  porch  with  her,  readin'  out  loud  her 
press  notices  from  the  movie  magazines. 

I  kept  out  of  it,  but  thinkin'  about  Arthur 


388  KID  SCANLAN 

and  that  little  nurse  over  there  had  me 
bitin'  nails,  and  the  next  day  I  told  the 
'Kid  if  he  didn't  go  out  and  trade  wallops 
with  Arthur,  I  was  through  as  his  pilot.  I 
said  that  right  out  loud  in  front  of  Miss 
Vincent,  lookin'  her  right  in  them  famous 
baby-blue  eyes  of  hers.  But  you  can't  fig- 
ure women — she  crossed  me  and  tells  the 
Kid  to  go  and  she'd  go  with  him! 

We  went  out  in  her  racin'  car,  with  me 
ridin'  on  the  runnin'  board  and  thinkin' 
what  a  fine  thing  accident  insurance  was  for 
a  guy  of  moderate  means.  By  dumb  luck 
we  missed  crashin'  into  the  scenery  along 
the  road  and  stopped  outside  the  iron  gates 
of  the  sanitarium.  We  had  hardly  got  in 
the  office,  when  from  down  the  hall  we 
heard  what  sounded  like  a  race  riot,  and  a 
couple  of  orderlies  goes  past  us  so  fast  that 
I  didn't  believe  it  could  be  done,  although 
I  seen  'em.  The  Kid  runs  down  to  where 
the  noise  was  comin'  from  and  I  tagged 
along  in  the  rear,  stoppin'  with  him  outside 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  389 

a  big  two-doored  room,  where  from  the 
sounds  that  crashed  out  from  inside  they 
was  puttin'  on  a  dress  rehearsal  of  a  race 
riot. 

While  we  stood  there  lookin'  at  each 
other,  a  familiar  deep  snarlin'  voice  roars 
out  over  the  others — they  was  a  scream, 
too,  that  made  me  neck  and  neck  with  the 
Kid  as  we  busted  in  the  locked  doors  and 
went  sprawlin'  inside. 

Oh,  boy! 

A  half  dozen  nurses  and  two  or  three 
doctors  is  lined  up  against  the  wall  on  the 
far  side,  crouchin'  back  of  an  operatin'  ta- 
ble and  tryin'  to  force  their  bodies  through 
the  hard  cement.  The  place  looks  like  a 
cyclone  had  hit  it,  with  the  walls  scraped 
and  scarred  and  the  floor  covered  with  plas- 
ter and  what  not  like  the  show-room  of  a 
junk  shop.  Half  on  the  floor  and  half  on 
a  chair  is  Miss  Woods.  I  hoped  she  had 
only  fainted. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  and  backin' 


390  KID  SCANLAN 

against  the  doors  is  a  big,  growlin',  red-eyed 
killer  that  used  to  be  Arthur. 

Most  of  his  clothes  is  torn  off  where  some 
of  them  poor  little  human  bein's  had  tried 
to  hold  him,  and  over  his  head  he's  swingin' 
a  iron  pole  he'd  torn  from  the  fancy  front 
gate  outside.  Each  time  he  swings,  he 
comes  nearer  that  bunch  with  nothin'  be- 
tween them  and  Heaven  but  a  white  enam- 
eled table.  He  didn't  seem  to  notice  Scan- 
Ian,  who  slid  almost  to  his  feet,  and  rightin' 
himself  like  a  cat,  stepped  back  to  size  the 
thing  up.  Then  with  a  growl,  Arthur 
chops  at  the  operatin'  table  with  the  pole 
and  crumbles  it  like  a  berry  box.  The 
women  screamed — I  think  one  of  'em 
fainted.  The  doctors  spread  in  front  of 
them,  as  Arthur  raised  the  pole  to  finish  the 
job. 

And  then  Scanlan,  poppin'  up  from  some- 
wheres,  jumps  in  front  of  Arthur,  his  face 
the  color  of  that  busted  table,  but  his  body 
as  steady  as  the  Rockies,  as  he  plants  him- 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  391 

self  there  before  the  big  guy,  swingin'  his 
head  back  easily  before  that  tremblin'  iron 
pole.  The  Kid  throws  his  hands  up  in  a 
fightin'  position  and  dances  from  one  foot  to 
the  other  lookin'  for  a  openin',  like  a  guy 
with  a  pail  of  water  tryin'  to  put  out  hell! 
Arthur  hesitates,  starin'  wildly  at  the  Kid, 
and  then  his  face  begins  to  change  till  it's  al- 
most human.  He  looks  like  he's  tryin'  to 
think. 

"Come  on!"  bawls  Scanlan — loud,  to 
keep  the  crack  out  of  his  voice.  "Come 
on!"  He  dances  around  Arthur  and  makes 
a  pass  at  him.  "I  got  some  new  ones  to 
show  you  to-day!"  he  yells.  "Hurry  up, 
or  we — won't — have — time — to — mix  it!" 

I  remember  the  head  doc  told  me  after- 
wards it  was  because  the  big  feller  had  been 
doin'  that  every  day — boxin'  with  the  Kid — 
for  so  long  that  it — 

But  what's  that  matter  now?  Arthur 
dropped  that  iron  pole,  put  up  his  hands, 
grins  like  a  baby  and  rocks  the  Kid  with  a 


392  KID  SCANLAN 

straight  left,  while  them  nurses  and  doctors 
tumbled  out  of  the  room  thankin'  their  dif- 
ferent gods.  Somebody  carried  out  Miss 
Woods,  too. 

I  guess  Scanlan  never  battled  before  like 
he  did  in  the  next  ten  minutes,  because  he 
was  fightin'  for  the  biggest  purse  he  ever 
climbed  in  a  ring  for — his  life!  The  big 
guy  smashed  him  all  over  the  place  tryin' 
for  a  knockout  like  the  Kid  had  taught  him, 
crushin'  his  ribs  in  the  clinches  till  Scan- 
lan's  breathin'  cut  me  to  the  heart  and 
rainin'  wallops  on  him  like  a  machine  gun. 
Me?  Oh,  I  didn't  do  much  but  root  for 
the  Kid.  Y'see  I  was  beside  that  operatin' 
table  when  Arthur  lammed  it  with  the  pole 
— some  of  it  kinda  glanced  off  and  I  stopped 
it  with  my  head.  A  game  little  bantam  of 
a  doctor  hopped  around  'em,  as  they  slewed 
over  the  floor,  lookin'  like  a  referee — but 
he  was  simply  tryin'  to  slip  friend  Arthur 
a  hypodermic  while  Scanlan  kept  him  busy. 

Finally,  the  Kid  staggers  Arthur  with  a 


HOSPITAL  STUFF  393 

lucky  right  smash  to  the  chin,  and  then  a 
half  a  dozen  left  and  rights  to  the  body  cut 
his  size  down  to  where  the  Kid  could  put 
all  he  had  left  in  one  swing — and  it's  all 
over.  The  little  doc  with  the  hypo  gets 
busy,  and,  when  we  left  the  room,  Arthur 
was  headed  for  the  operatin'  pen — his  trip 
havin'  been  interrupted  by  the  slight  excite- 
ment Scanlan  had  stopped  1 

.Well,  me  and  the  Kid  was  hustled  up- 
stairs to  be  fussed  over,  windin'  up,  you 
might  say,  where  we  started,  in  the  hospital. 
After  a  time  Miss  Woods  comes  up  and 
thanks  us — at  least  she  made  a  stab  at  it  and 
weeps.  The  operation  had  been  a  success, 
and  when  Arthur  could  walk  he  was  gonna 
reward  Miss  Woods  for  her  lovin'  care  by 
marryin'  her,  and  she  looked  like  she 
thought  that  was  enough — ain't  women  a 
scream? 

We  was  talkin'  to  the  doctor,  when  Miss 
Vincent  come  in — stands  in  the  doorway  for 
a  minute  lookin'  like  a  swell  picture  in  a 


394  KID  SCANLAN 

punk  frame,  and  comes  to  the  Kid  with  a 
yours-for-keeps  look  in  her  eyes.  Scanlan 
throws  up  his  head  like  he's  just  thought  of 
somethin'. 

"Say!"  he  pipes  through  the  bandages. 
"I  know  what  that  psychological  moment 
thing  is  now — the  doc  has  just  been  tellin' 
me.  It  seems,"  he  says  with  a  grin.  "It 
seems  I  pulled  one  off  here  this  afternoon!" 


THE  END 


"The  Books  You  Like  to  Read 
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CHARLES    ALDEN    SELTZER'S 
WESTERN  NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dunlap's  list. 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  BUFFALO~ 

Jim  Cameron  builds  a  railroad  adjacent  to  Ballantine's  property,  even 
though  Ballantine  threatens  to  kill  him  the  day  he  runs  it. 

BRASS  COMMANDMENTS 

Stephen  Lannon  writes  six  commandments  over  six  loaded  cartridges  set 
out  where  the  evil  men  who  threaten  him  and  the  girl  he  loves,  may  see  them. 

WEST  ! 

When  Josephine  Hamilton  went  West  to  visit  Betty,  she  met  "  Satan  "  Lat- 
timer,  ruthless,  handsome,  fascinating,  who  taught  her  some  things. 

SQUARE  DEAL  SANDERSON 

Square  Deal  Sanderson  rode  onto  the  Double  A  just  as  an  innocent  man 
was  about  to  be  hanged  and  Mary  Bransford  was  in  danger  of  losing  her 
property. 

" BEAU  "  RAND 

Bristling-  with  quick,  decisive  action,  and  absorbing  in  its  love  theme. 
"  Beau  "  Rand,  mirrors  the  West  of  the  hold-up  days  in  remarkable  fashion. 

THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 

Calumet  Marston,  daredevil,  returns  to  his  father's  ranch  to  find  it  is  being 
run  by  a  young  woman  who  remains  in  charge  until  he  accepts  sundry 
conditions. 

"DRAG" HARLAN 

Harlan  establishes  himself  as  the  protector  of  Barbara  Morgan  and  deals 
out  punishment  to  the  girl's  enemies  through  the  lightning  flash  of  drawn 
guns. 
THE  TRAIL  HORDE 

How  Kane  Lawler  fought  the  powerful  interests  that  were  trying  to  crush 
him  and  Ruth  Hamlin,  the  woman  he  loved,  makes  intensely  interesting 
reading. 
THE  RANCHMAN 

The  story  of  a  two-fisted  product  of  the  west,  pitted  against  a  rascally  spoils- 
man, who  sought  to  get  control  of  Marion  Harlan  and  her  ranch. 

"  FIREBRAND"  TREVISON 

The  encroachment  of  the  railroad  brought  Rosalind  Benham— and  also  re- 
sults in  a  clash  between  Corrigan  and  "Firebrand"  that  ends  when  the  better 
man  wins. 
THE  RANGE  BOSS 

Ruth  Harkness  comes  West  to  the  ranch  her  uncle  left  her.    Rex  Rander- 
son,  her  range  boss,  rescues  her  from  a  mired  buckboard,  and  is  in  love  with 
her  from  that  moment  on. 
THE  VENGEANCE  OF  JEFFERSON  GAWNE 

A  story  of  the  Southwest  that  tells  how  the  law  came  to  a  cow-town,  domin- 
ated by  a  cattle  thief.  There  is  a  wonderful  girl  too,  who  wins  the  love  of 
Jefferson  Gawne, 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,   PUBLISHERS,   NEW  YORK 


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